If Looks Could Kill
by gigundoly
Summary: Rolling over his toes isn't the answer, Artie know that, but it does help.  Chapter 22  Epilogue : Lucky
1. Bound and Rebound

"OW!"

"Nark."

"Okay, hold up."

I could see that Mr. Schuester was getting pretty fed up with us, and we hadn't even gotten through our first rehearsal of the year. First, Rachel had showed up with our entire set for Sectionals planned out, as though she was going to run the show this year. Then Brittany, Quinn, and Santana had to split early because their Cheerios tryouts conflicted with rehearsal, which couldn't have been an accident. And now I was the icing on the cake, rolling over Mike Chang's toes without an ounce of remorse.

"What just happened?" Mr. Schue demanded to know, looking squarely at me for an explanation. I looked over my shoulder, searching for the troublemaker and feigning innocence.

"His _wheel_ just happened," Tina spat, clinging protectively to Mike, an accusing glare directed straight at me. "To Mike's _foot._" I rewarded her spite with my most charming smile.

"His foot got in my way," I insisted, shrugging. "Er, sorry, Mike. Next time, don't take up half the stage with your over-exaggerated moves and I'll be able to steer clear of your toes."

"_Artie," _Mercedes hissed, putting her hands on her hips as she leaned over me menacingly. Beside her, Rachel mumbled something about "immature relationship drama" under her breath, as if she'd never let her own issues interfere with rehearsal. (Who could forget "Run Joey Run"?) Kurt adjusted his bangs and made a show of rolling his eyes at us and sighing deeply.

Mr. Schuester threw up his hands in surrender. "This rehearsal is officially post-poned," he told us. "Half of the girls can't even be here, the rest of you aren't taking it seriously, and I could be at home working on my first week's lessons for Spanish class. I'll see you all tomorrow."

I thought I was off the hook as I followed the others out the door, keeping a safe distance from Mike as he _limped_ along beside Tina, milking it for all it was worth. But it turned out that I wouldn't be getting off that easily. Before I could wheel out the door, Mr. Schue called me back. "I need to see you, Artie."

With a sigh, I pivoted to face him. He was leaning against the piano, one hand massaging his temple, as he beckoned me back in. I obliged, rolling myself up to the piano. He took a seat on the bench, and I felt grateful that he wasn't going to talk down to me. As feelings of shame set in, I looked down at my hands, suddenly embarrassed. I was never the one to cause Mr. Schue problems.

"I couldn't help but noticing that things changed over the summer," Mr. Schuester began, tactfully. He said no more, but I knew that he meant that things with Tina and I had changed. And that Tina had obviously moved on.

"Yes, sir," I mumbled, feeling about two feet tall. (Okay, so from where I sit, I'm not much taller than that. But you get the idea.)

"Listen, Artie," he began, and I could tell he was struggling to come up with advice. He probably gets a bit tired of dealing with our problems all the time, being that he's an adult with his own issues, like a nasty divorce we all know a little about. To him, we're just silly kids. "I know you aren't a big fan of Mike Chang right now, but rolling over his toes isn't going to solve your problems."

But I did _feel_ a little better, although I couldn't admit that. Instead, I just gave a nod like I knew Mr. Schuester, with his vast adult wisdom, was right. He patted my shoulder reassuringly, standing up again as though this chat had been nerve-wracking.

"All I ask is that you check your personal issues at the door next time," he said. "But if you want to talk about it, Artie, I'm here."

But talking about it was the _last _thing I wanted to do right now. I just wanted to go home, lock myself in my room, climb in bed, and listen to my iPod shuffle dedicated exclusively to break-up ballads. Yes, I was that pathetic.

Tina had dumped me nearly three months ago, but it hadn't been so difficult until we'd returned to school. Until school started, I'd been able to basically avoid the problem. Having spent the whole summer at my special camp for the physically disabled, I focused on hanging out with my camp friends, trying fun activities adapted especially for me and my needs, and avoiding any contact with people back home. I didn't even write to Kurt and Mercedes, for fear that they would mention Tina.

Finding out about Mike had been a nasty, nasty shock. It happened at lunch on our first day. I had been dreading lunch because I'd eaten with Tina, Mercedes, and Kurt last year. I was anticipating an awkward problem since although neither of us wanted to talk, I was sure neither of us would want to leave the lunch table. But Tina never showed up at our table. Mercedes and Kurt said nothing about it, but gave me these obvious worried looks until I finally spotted Tina and her new lunch crew. She was sitting with Mike, Matt, and a bunch of older kids I didn't know, laughing hysterically at something.

Tina and Mike were holding hands across the table.

"We should have told him," I heard Mercedes scolding Kurt as I stared across the cafeteria, dumbfounded. "He was going to find out eventually. Artie? Artie? I'm sorry, Artie."

"Now I know how Shawn and Angela felt when Cory and Topanga split up," Kurt had muttered, and I would have been surprised that he was familiar with _Boy Meets World _had I not been so distracted.

Not wanting to relive the lunch scene in my mind, I pushed my wheels as hard as I could, making my way down the halls quickly in hopes that my dad would already be in the parking lot waiting on me. It wasn't until I got outside that I realized I'd be stuck waiting until 4:00 for Dad. I was still supposed to be in rehearsal. I cursed my bad luck, knowing that even if I called him, I still wouldn't be able to get away in time to avoid talking to anyone. But as I waited for Mercedes or Kurt to find me and lecture me about my behavior, I was in for an even worse encounter.

Mike wasn't limping now and Tina was gone, which made me think he'd been playing it up for sympathy before and made me hate him even more. "So, it seems I've offended you," he began, amicably, and my hatred for him surged. If looks could kill…

I grabbed my wheels again and began pushing furiously, heading down the little paved ramp onto the asphalt, intending to keep going as long as it took for him to go away. That asshole had the nerve to follow me, remaining a few paces behind at first until I felt a slight tug of resistance. Having been literally pushed beyond my limits, I turned to give him a piece of my mind.

"Do_ not_ under any circumstances _touch_ my _chair,_" I threatened, my teeth clenched in fury as I stared him down. He let go of my handles and took two steps back, holding his hands up in submission.

"What can I do to get you not to _hate_ me?" Mike asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. I scoffed at him. He had some nerve, wanting both my ex-girlfriend _and _my friendship. I couldn't understand why it mattered, when we had never been friends in the first place. And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit me.

"Feel guilty, do you?" I asked, smirking knowingly at him as I turned my chair to face him squarely. He played dumb, of course, but I knew better. "So, that's it. You feel bad for hurting the wheelchair kid's feelings, and you want me to tell you it's okay so you don't have to feel like a jerk. Well, it's not okay and you _are _a jerk."

"And you're a jealous idiot who doesn't know what he's talking about," Mike blurted out, reddening as he spoke. I gave him a satisfied smile, having received exactly what I wanted. I was sick of his act. He was always playing the part of that cool guy who was liked by everybody. But I was determined to mess that up.

"That's it, let it all out," I directed him. "Well, if you don't mind, this jealous idiot has places to go today."

"I didn't mean to say that," Mike replied, automatically. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck, evidently trying to go on and play the part of the cool, likable guy as if he hadn't just blown his own cover. "Artie, look, I don't blame you for hating me…"

"And yet you're stalking a guy who clearly hates you," I replied, coolly.

"Yeah, because I'd like to change your mind," he said, taking a knee beside my chair as if trying to get on my level. It had the opposite effect, only making me feel like he was being even _more_ condescending. "Look, I know your dad usually gives you a ride, but he isn't here yet, is he? So let me drive you home instead. We can talk, go get a shake or something…"

Mike Chang had lost his mind.

"What about Tina?" I asked.

"She left already," he told me. "She doesn't know anything about this. Look, when she and I got together, she told me your break up was mutual. But my sore toes on my right foot tell me that's clearly not the case. If I'd known, Artie, I would have given things more time…"

Against my better judgment, I wanted to know more. Folding my arms across my body, I scowled and asked the question I couldn't resist asking. "And precisely how much time did she give it?"

He bit his lip nervously. "We've been dating since July."

I pivoted sharply, wheeling angrily in the opposite direction. _July? _"I think I've heard enough."

"Artie, please, wait!" He knew better than to reach for the handles this time, but he did jump in front of me and block my path. I really, really hate it when people feel the need to get in my way, as if it isn't hard enough for me to go where I want.

"_Fine_," I conceded, not even understanding my own motives for giving in to his request. "But I'm ordering a large shake, a burger, _and _fries at your expense, and you have half an hour to sweet talk me into not hating your guts."


	2. The Man Date

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I'll tell you that I _do _have a plan for this one, but I don't think it'll get really juicy until the next chapter or two. Please stick with me!

* * *

Mike further complicated my life by driving an enormous old Bronco. When I realized I was going to be left with no choice but to allow him to hoist me in and out of his vehicle like a sack of potatoes, I almost bailed on the man-date right then and there. It was only the promise of a free burger and fries that enabled me to tolerate being stripped of all dignity. I was starving because I hadn't been able to eat my lunch that day after spotting Mike with Tina.

"You break it, you buy it!" I called out, watching in the rearview mirror as Mike clumsily tried to put my chair back together. He'd had to take the wheels off to fit it in the back because he had a bunch of other crap back there. Mike was a total slob, and being neat as a pin myself, I thought it was really gross. How could Tina date a slob?

Mike didn't break my chair by some miracle, and we got inside the diner in one piece. After I ordered my shake and water, I clammed up and forced Mike to make conversation. He asked me what I did this summer. I told him I went to camp and said nothing more about it. He started droning on and on about some dance camp he'd gone to, and I was just about to pass out on the table from boredom when Mike decided to get a little more personal with his questioning.

"So, what's your story?" he asked, as our food arrived. I'd been intending to use my burger and fries as an excuse not to talk, but he was bound and determined to force me into it. I narrowed my eyes, lowering the burger I'd just picked up back to my plate.

"My story?" I repeated. "What, you mean why I'm in a wheelchair?"

"Well, yeah, that too."

See what I mean? What a tool, to just pose such a vague question that obviously meant what I thought it meant, and then act as though it were open to interpretation. If this was seriously Mike trying to win me over and convince me he wasn't such a bad guy, he was failing miserably.

"ATV accident," I said, without missing a beat as I picked up a fry and dipped it into my ketchup. If he didn't know the difference, I figured I might as well make the accident sound more badass than it was. "I was racing a buddy when I was twelve. Mine turned over and landed on top of me."

But he frowned. "Tina said it was a car accident when you were eight."

"Oh, yeah, or that," I replied, rolling my eyes and biting off the end of my fry. If Tina already told him, why was he asking me? It was just ridiculous, and it annoyed me to think that she had talked to _him _about _me_. Like, how did that conversation even get started?

"Sorry that happened to you," he added, his eyes boring holes through my soul. I've never had the urge to spit my food at someone before, but I definitely felt inclined to try it at that moment.

"Oh, my God, _shut up_," I told him, keeping my food in my mouth. I couldn't decide if it was more irritating that he'd asked a question he already knew the answer to or that he'd tried to offer me his lousy pity. The waitress had been striding towards us, about to offer Mike a refill on his soda, but she suddenly changed directions as she caught a bit of our conversation.

"Hey, leave God out of it," Mike requested, serenely, and I was reminded of the Mercedes connection. Apparently, Mike and his family went to church with Mercedes, yet another reason why Mike Chang was a better guy than me. He was obviously holier than I, the occasional church goer who was secretly angry at the Almighty Maker for putting me in the chair.

I obliged to keep the Heavens out of our conversation, but it didn't mean I had to look happy about it. "Why does it matter whether or not I like you, Mike?" I demanded to know, desperate to take the focus off of my situation.

He frowned. "Because you're part of my team," he reasoned, as if it were really that simple. "I don't particularly like all the guys that play football with me, especially not Karofsky or Azimio, but we're civil to one another for the sake of the team."

"I guess that would be why you win so many games."

I'd meant it to be an insult, but Mike laughed. After a moment, so did I. It seemed like even the football team's own players couldn't deny that they were, without a doubt, the most pathetic team in the state of Ohio, having won a total of one game _ever_ on account of a gay kicker with an unconventional technique.

"You're funny, Abrams," said Mike.

"You're not," I retorted, a smile creeping up on my face. He laughed again, and I, betrayed by my own countenance, laughed along with him. Why was he making hating him so complicated?

'Hey, do you play DDR?" he asked, suddenly, and I raised one eyebrow derisively. He chuckled, still apparently under the impression that I was a comedian, and went on. "No, I'm serious. I heard you telling Kurt one time that you play it with your hands. Well, I have DDR. If you'll stomach another hour or two with me, I'd like to challenge you to a match at my house."

I should have told him "Hell-to-the-no," to quote the great Mercedes. Instead, born out of my desire to kick his ass at something, I agreed. After arranging this with my parents, who were undoubtedly surprised to hear that I was spending the afternoon with someone other than Kurt or Mercedes, we got back into his Bronco and headed for his house.

Two hours later, we were laughing and living it up, pigging out on popcorn and homemade chocolate chip cookies while playing round after round of DDR. Mike beat me almost every time when he was playing the regular way, but when I made him try it with his hands, he was no match for my well-practiced speed. Eventually, his six-year-old sister wandered in and wanted to give it a go. Little Mia was pretty talented for a kid, and I figured the dancing talent must've been hereditary.

"So, why did you used to keep your dancing a secret?" I asked him later, as I sprawled out on the couch and downed the bottle of water he'd just given me. He looked at me, quizzically, and I explained. "When we sang to Mr. Schue, you said that before Glee, you didn't dance outside of your room."

Mike, who was now sprawled out on the rug, propped up on his elbows and nodded. "Yeah, I did say that," he recalled, blithely. "Our football team, the majority of them anyway, is so homophobic that they once held a guy down and shaved off his eyebrows just because he watched Grey's Anatomy." He sighed. "Matt's left eyebrow hasn't matched his right one ever since."

I snorted, nearly spitting out my water. "Sorry," I managed to say, although I made a mental note to take a closer look at Matt's eyebrows the next time I saw him.

"One time, way before Glee, Puck came over and saw that I had some dance shows on my TiVo," he went on. "I had to lie and say that they were my mom's shows. But ever since Puck, Matt, and I joined Glee, we just made a pact to stop caring about what people think. You know, be more like you original Glee kids."

"And what makes you think we don't care what people think?" I asked, truly curious. The reality was that I worried a lot about what people thought of me, as well as what they thought of the chair. That entire failed mission Kurt dreamed up to tarnish our good reputations had been solely based on altering others' opinions of us.

"I don't know," he answered, with a shrug. "You just seem like you don't care. You wear what you want, even if it isn't considered cool. I was really self-conscious when we walked around school danced as the guys from KISS for a week, but you didn't look like it bothered you."

That couldn't be farther from the truth. Those silver, glittery high-heeled boots put my knees several inches higher than usual, making it impossible to carry anything in my lap. The tight black pants cut off my circulation, probably posing a threat to my health. But at the time, I'd been doing that for Tina, to aid her in her quest for finding a new look.

Thinking of Tina reminded me that I was supposed to hate Mike. Deciding that we'd had quite enough male bonding for one evening, I told him I had a lot of homework to finish and called Dad to pick me up. We played a few more game of DDR until I got a text from Dad saying that he was parked outside on Mike's driveway

Mike walked me all the way to the van, making me feel as though we really were on some whacked out date. I was going to have to leave dating dudes to Kurt; it really wasn't my thing. But Mike and I had a good time, and in spite of my determination to hate the jerk, I really couldn't make myself do it. Taking Tina out of the equation, he and I might have made really good friends. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Listen, Abrams," he said, scratching the back of his neck again in that way that told me he was feeling uncomfortable. I was stuck waiting for Dad to lower the ramp for the van and couldn't bolt before he finished his sentence so I listened. "Do you think it would be too awkward for Matt, Tina, and me to sit with you, Mercedes, and Kurt?"

_Yes_, I answered him mentally. And then, I was struck with a truly wicked idea. What better way to get Tina back for rebounding less than a month after dumping me? Surely, Mike and I becoming friends would be uncomfortable for her, to say the least. My new goal took shape in my mind, and I imagined the _three _of us on a date, Tina being the third wheel. Evil, maybe, but brilliant? Without a doubt.

"No, no, we can make room for you," I assured him, as the van's ramp touched down. I hurried to wheel myself up, grinning as my face became hidden from his view. I turned to wave back at him, muttering from behind clenched teeth so softly that he wouldn't hear it: "Tina's going to love this."

I couldn't wait for lunch.


	3. The Third Wheel

Tuesday's lunch was everything I'd been hoping for and more. I made a point not to mention the plan to Mercedes or Kurt because, if Mike didn't say anything to her about it in advance, I hoped it would come as a nasty shock to Tina. Sure enough, when Mike, Matt, and Tina carried their trays over to us, I could see that Tina was still reeling from this surprise move.

"Hey, guys," I said, brightly. "Join us!" And then, just to be sure she got the message that I had been in on it, I turned to Kurt and Mercedes and filled them in, completely for Tina's benefit. "Mike and I decided we should all eat together. Maybe eventually it can be a Glee thing."

But that scenario was pretty doubtful, no matter how well we all got along in the choir room. Santana, Brittany, and Quinn sat with the rest of the Cheerios, and Quinn had been so seamlessly reinstated into the group that it was as if last year's pregnancy scandal never happened for her. Finn and Rachel were so hung up on each other that they'd started eating alone at a private table reserved with a vase containing a single rose and a sign on starry stationary that bore the words: 'Finchel's Table.' It was so cute that it was disgusting. And what exactly was a finchel? A new breed of bird? Something you bought at a bakery? Last but not least was Puck, who evidently left campus every single day for lunch, just standard procedure for a bad-ass.

"Right, a Glee thing," Tina mumbled, shooting a murderous look in my direction as she sat down across from me, flagged by Matt and Mike on either side. I think she would have preferred that I roll over Mike's toes again. I had her exactly where I wanted. Grinning at her, I took a big bite of my sandwich, discovering that it had never tasted so good. It tasted like sweet, sweet revenge.

"Friday night," I announced. "I'm having the guys over for a _guy _thing." (Did I mention it was for the _guys?)_ "Mike, Matt, you in?"

They both nodded eagerly, and I remembered I'd have to run it by my parents. I doubted very seriously that Puck would come to my house, but I was sure I could pry Finn away from Rachel for just one night for a little male bonding.

"Am I invited?" Kurt asked, surreptitiously, as though he feared he might be embarking on foreign territory. But I nodded vigorously at him, and he smiled, seeming satisfied with this answer.

"Mike," interrupted Tina, touching his arm. "I was sort of hoping we'd go catch that new action movie that you were talking about seeing. It opens on Friday."

"Oh, does it?" Mike looked from Tina to me. I was nearly tempted to suggest the _guys _go see it, but that might have been a little obvious. Instead, I did my best to look disappointed at the prospect of Mike bailing on the guys' night I'd just planned on the spot.

"We can go Saturday night," he assured her, patting her hand before subtly tugging his arm away from her grasp, turning back to me and giving me an encouraging smile. Mike was trying not to flaunt Tina in front of me, really giving this friendship-with-the-old-boyfriend thing the old college try. I couldn't resist feeling a twinge of gratitude. He really was a pretty decent guy sometimes, wasn't he?

"Looks like we'll just have to plan a girls' night at my place," Mercedes piped up, before Tina could protest. "If Finn goes with the guys, Rachel will want something to do. And Quinn's been saying how much she misses my momma's cooking ever since she moved back in with her mom. I bet if Quinn comes, Brittany and Santana will want to come, too."

And that was that. Girls' night and guys' night were officially underway, and I'd royally sabotaged Tina's plan for a Friday night date. But I could do more. I could do so much more.

On Wednesday, I asked Mike if I could go to church with him. I figured he was religious enough to attend on Wednesday nights, and as it turned out, I was right. And what was he going to do, tell me I couldn't go to _church _with him? As it turned out, Tina had started attending church with Mike, and that meant I'd ruined yet another date. Sweet success.

Mike, Matt, and Mercedes were part of a praise band that played Wednesday nights, with Mike playing the keyboard, Matt on the drums, and Mercedes taking lead on the vocals. Their bass player was sick for the night so Mike asked if I could fill in, which was how I wound up on stage rocking out the praise and worship songs that I'd learned in record time. I could see Tina seething in the audience the entire time. I volunteered my services as their substitute bass player should they ever need one again.

On Thursday, Tina walked up on a conversation between Mike and I in which we were, yet again, making plans that didn't include her. Mike had a Spanish test on Friday that he was positive he was going to bomb. I happened to be one of the top students in Mr. Schue's class so I assured him that, yes, it would be my pleasure to help a hopelessly monolingual friend acquire enough of the foreign language to pass his test. I promptly invited him to my house that evening for tutoring.

As Mike left for his next class whistling, Tina jerked me backwards by my handlebars. I wheeled around to face her, an innocent expression on my face. "What?"

"You know perfectly well _what._"

I played dumb anyway. "Well, let's see," I began, scratching my chin and averting my eyes in mock thoughtfulness. "I haven't rolled over Mike's toes since Monday, I graciously covered for their bassist on Wednesday night, and now I'm helping him with his homework for free. So I can't say I see the problem, Tee. Mind spelling it out for me?"

Her hands went to her hips. "Y-O-U are just using M-I-K-E to get back at M-E." Tears filled her eyes, which I totally hadn't expected, and yet shouldn't have been so surprised. In all this time, I'd forgotten how easy it was to accidentally make Tina cry. And even if I wanted revenge, tears weren't exactly what I had in mind.

I sighed, wheeling a bit closer to her and reaching up to give her hand a squeeze. "I was at first," I admitted. "But to be honest, Mike's a really nice guy. I'd like to be friends with him. Besides, I want to make sure that I know he's treating you right. Is he treating you right?"

"He treats me _fine_," said Tina, wiping her eyes quickly and using a tone that made it perfectly clear that she didn't want me to play the brotherly role. In fact, I was starting to think she didn't want me around at all.

I took the hint and quickly let go of her hand, but I wasn't finished. A chance to talk to Tina alone was rare these days, and even if the middle of the hall at school wasn't ideal, I wasn't letting the opportunity go to waste.

"I-I miss you, Tina."

She bit her lip. "I have to go to class."

* * *

I sat at the kitchen table in front of the open Spanish book, reviewing the vocabulary list one last time before Mike arrived. Mom passed by and, with a curious looked, stopped by me. "I thought you took that test yesterday."

"My class did," I explained. "But my friend, Mike, takes his test tomorrow. He's only in Spanish II so I borrowed an extra book to see what they're studying."

"That's pretty nice of you," she said, taking a seat at the table. "You've spent an awful lot of time with Mike this week. He's the one in glee club, right?" I nodded. "I'm glad to see you getting to know those guys a little better. And I'm very excited about your party."

She gave my hand a pat and I smiled meekly. "Me too."

She had no idea that I'd started out this new friendship with such underhanded motives, or else she'd never be sitting here, telling me how happy she was that I was finding new friends. I couldn't tell her. I had a feeling it would disappoint her, and if there's one thing I hate, it's disappointing Mom.

"Which reminds me," she added. "We need some food in this house if we're going to feed, what was it you said, five or six guys? You make a list, sweetheart, and we'll go grocery shopping tomorrow when I pick you up from school. How does that sound?"

I thanked her, telling her that it sounded great. So far, I had commitments from Finn, Mike, Matt, and Kurt. Puck had given me a "we'll see," but it wasn't exactly a no.

I'd just started on my party list when the doorbell rang. I wheeled my way through the living room to answer it, but Mom beat me there. I hung back as the door swung open to reveal Mike and… Tina?

The way Tina smirked at me seemed to say "two can play this game." But as she stepped inside and greeted my very surprised mother with a hug, all she said was, "I could use a little help with Spanish as well. Mike didn't think Artie would mind."

_Oh, Artie minds_, I thought. But all I said was, "No, of course not."

We headed to the kitchen where I'd intended for us to study, and I waited to see if Mike and Tina would dare to engage in some kind of public display of affection in front of my mother. Mom was oblivious to my discomfort as she made chips and queso and cut up some fruit for us. I was glad she stayed in the kitchen because it meant that Tina had to be nice. We concentrated on conjugating verbs until Mom served up the snacks.

"Enjoy!" she said, before leaving the room. I realized it was 8:00 PM, which meant her favorite Thursday night show was on. She'd be in her room, leaving the three of us alone in the kitchen for the rest of the evening. I eyed Tina, contemplating whether or not she'd dare to flirt with Mike in front of me.

She dared.

I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't dropped my pencil. I bent down to see if I could get it, and that was when I realized that Tina's foot was wrapped around Mike's leg, her hand on his knee. I straightened up, my face stony as I addressed them both. "I can't reach my pencil."

"Oh, I'll get it," said Mike, ducking under the table to get it. I took a golden opportunity to stick my tongue out at Tina. _Mature,_ I knew it. She stuck her tongue out at me, but wasn't fast enough to keep Mike from noticing. She ducked her head and blushed when he gave her a puzzled look.

"Thanks," I said, quickly, taking the pencil back. He studied me suspiciously when he handed it over, then without warning, stood up and grabbed his books.

"Come on, Tina," he said, sharply, scowling at her. "I think I see what's going on here, and I don't particularly like it." He turned his attention back at me. "For the record, I really _am_ trying to be your friend, Abrams."

I swallowed hard. "I know that, dude," I replied, quickly. "I want to be friends, too, really. It's just, you throw her in the mix and we've got issues. I don't think you bringing her here was a good idea."

Tina exhaled loudly. "Guys, I'm right here."

"I don't think so, either," said Mike, as if Tina hadn't spoken. He glanced back and forth between the both of us, his expression unreadable. "It's late, we should get going. Thanks for your help, Artie."


	4. Just Like That

A/N: Alright, readers, in advance, I apologize.

* * *

If Thursday night had started a fight between Mike and Tina, it was over by the time third period ended on Friday. I caught sight of them stepping out of their shared Biology class, hand in hand. Because I was already headed the same way myself, I had no choice but to follow several paces behind as Mike walked Tina to her next destination.

I watched in complete agony as she raised herself up on tip-toe to give him a quick kiss before disappearing into her classroom. This time, the brief moment of flirtation hadn't been meant for my eyes. It was hard to decide what was worse. I wheeled myself into a corner and froze, willing Mike to walk past without seeing me. To my relief, he passed right on by without looking down at me. When the coast was clear, I wheeled myself into my Calculus class, certain that I was going to fall behind today. There was no way I'd be able to focus on the lesson with _that _image in my mind.

After Calculus, it was time for lunch, but I was too upset to watch the two of them together again. I ended up telling Kurt that I felt sick to my stomach, but he couldn't leave it alone. "I'll take you to the nurse," he offered, frowning worriedly.

"No, it's not like that," I tried to tell him. "It's… just that I don't feel like… eating, that's all. I think I'm going to go to the choir room and lie down on those mattresses. We still have a few of them in the closet, remember? Mr. Schue didn't know what to do with them."

Kurt was smart enough to see through my phony excuse, but kind enough not to call me out on it. He simply insisted that I have something available to eat in case I changed my mind and gave me the sack lunch he'd brought along, pretending that he actually wanted to buy the cafeteria's lunch today. I gratefully accepted it before escaping to spend lunch alone in the choir room. Kurt Hummel was a really good friend.

I didn't see Mike until the end of the day, and I was happy to talk to him as long as Tina wasn't around. He approached me while I was waiting outside the school for Mom to pick me up. "First week's always the longest," he remarked, conversationally. "Hey, I wanted to tell you that I know I made at least a B on that test today. I really appreciate the tutoring, man."

"It was no trouble," I told him, with a smile. "I'm glad I could help."

"Is your stomach okay?" he asked, looking concerned, and I figured Kurt had to tell them all _something_.

"Better now," I assured him, and he continued to look slightly curious. I wished I'd given Kurt some other excuse to tell them. The more time people tended to spend analyzing the possible consequences of paralysis in terms of digestion, the more embarrassing their questions became. Luckily, Mike said nothing more about it.

"There's my ride," I announced, as Mom pulled up next to the curb and began lowering the lift for me. "See you tonight!" We exchanged a quick wave and I wheeled off hurriedly, knowing that there was a lot to do before the party tonight.

First stop, Save-A-Lot. I'd gotten the official word from Puck at the end of the day. He casually told me that he'd be late, but he'd stop by. I figured I ought to plan on Puck eating so I told Mom we'd have six guys. Considering that four of those guys were huge football players, it really looked like enough food for twelve. By the time we'd finished, we'd loaded up a cart with chips, sodas, cookies, popcorn, and fruit. Shopping took nearly two hours because the grocery store was so busy.

When we tried to get back on I-75 to go home, however, we quickly realized that something was wrong. Traffic on the entrance ramp was so backed up that we could hardly merge into it. I could see my mother's knuckles were already turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking about.

When my accident happened, I was lucky in the sense that I lost the entire day. I don't even remember getting up that morning or doing anything, even though the accident took place around 2:00 in the afternoon on a Saturday. I'm told that Mom and I were hit while trying to exit I-75 on our way home from running a few errands. It was years before Mom could bring herself to take the highway. For the longest time, she took strange routes to avoid it altogether.

Witnessing another accident on this highway was going to set her back, I just knew it. She'd surely be reverting to her old routes for at several weeks, at the least. I reached over to run my hand up and down her shoulder reassuringly. She glanced over at me and forced a smile, but quickly turned somber as she said, "We need to pray for the victims of the accident that just took place."

As I've mentioned before, my family isn't terribly religious. We went to church a lot right after my accident because the church we'd visited from time to time was very supportive, providing plenty of food to feed my dad and sister while Mom was spending all of the time she wasn't working with me the hospital and then in rehab.

But whenever we came up on a car accident, we would wind up praying. I wish we could just pray at meal time like normal religious families, but that apparently isn't our style. I obliged, bowing my head and shutting my eyes. Mom was driving us so she couldn't shut her eyes, but she began to pray out loud. I echoed everything she was saying in my mind: _"Dear Heavenly Father, we ask that you be with the victim or victims of this accident. Please heal their injuries and help their loved ones. Amen." _

"Amen," I said, opening my eyes. I squinted, seeing that traffic ahead of us seemed to be picking up. As we drove, it slowed down again because people were gawking at the accident. I couldn't help but imagine myself on the _other _side of this scene, as I once had been, being loaded into the ambulance.

As we approached, however, the ambulance was already speeding off, its siren blaring as it headed for the hospital. I was left to look at the remnants of the car, which had apparently run off the road and hit the guard rail. My jaw tightened as I craned my neck to get a better look, aware that I was guilty of the same nosy curiosity as the rest of the people slowing down traffic.

What I saw made me sick.

"Mom," I said, weakly, as we passed the enormous old Bronco, barely recognizable in its wrecked state. "That was my friend, Mike."

Things happened quickly after that. First, we needed to make a call and although I couldn't bring myself to do it, I handed my phone to Mom and instructed her to call Mr. Schuester. I just needed an adult to handle rounding up all of Mike's friends. I couldn't imagine calling Matt. Couldn't imagine calling Tina. I didn't know how badly Mike had been hurt, but judging from the looks of his Bronco, it didn't look good.

After getting in touch with Mr. Schuester, we had a difficult time getting to the next exit and getting off the highway. Mom, already back in paranoid mode, wouldn't go the opposite direction on the highway to get to the hospital so we wound up taking the backstreets to get there. Neither of us spoke the entire way there. I wanted to throw up as I thought about what I'd just seen. Was that how Mom felt, having memories of what happened to us? I'd never wanted to know what that felt like.

Mr. Schuester made it to the hospital before we did because he lived nearby. He hugged my mom, who looked about as pale as a ghost as we entered the emergency room waiting area. I was certain that I didn't look much better. Mr. Schue had already been able to find out that Mike had been taken into emergency surgery, that he was not in good shape, and that his parents and little sister were on their way.

I was relieved that Mr. Schue was with us when the Changs arrived because neither Mom nor I was in any place to offer comfort and support. Mom calmed down enough to tend to my friends as they arrived, but I stayed put next to the chairs, unable to say anything to them as they filed in. I'd never seen Matt Rutherford cry, but that was what he was doing as soon as he entered the ER, supported on either side by Puck and Finn.

After what seemed like ages, Tina came running down the hallway, a streak of black and blue as she ran into the arms of Mr. Schue. Kurt and Mercedes huddled together, and the four of them became very still as Mercedes appeared to be leading them in a prayer. Quietly, Matt separated himself from Puck and Finn to join the huddle.

My accident changed my whole life. There was no way I'd ever wish such consequences on another person, especially not Mike Chang. What if Mike never danced again? He'd only just worked up the nerve to dance outside of the confines of his bedroom. I knew, from what I'd read, that the majority of spinal cord injuries resulted in quadriplegia, not paraplegia, as mine had been. What if Mike couldn't use his hands? What if he needed help to breathe? There were worse things than dying, and there were certainly worse things than losing the use of your legs. I didn't know what to pray for, but as I watched Mercedes lead the others in prayer, it seemed like the only thing we could do right now.

A door swung open as a doctor stepped out. He approached the Changs and, although we couldn't hear what was said, we all knew what had happened by watching his family's reaction. Mrs. Chang collapsed into her husband's arms, crying loudly. My eyes landed on the six-year-old sister who stood helplessly, clinging to her father's hand while staring straight ahead, a mixture of sadness and confusion etched across her tiny face. She looked at me, in a moment I realized I'd never forget.

And just like that, Mike was gone.


	5. The Other Asian

A/N: I was positively flooded with reviews for the last chapter, which I really appreciate. I was kind of nervous about how that would go over. It's always fun getting the notifications so please keep those reviews coming. Because many of you were so eager for more, I made the time to get this chapter out of my head and onto my computer. I hope you enjoy it. This is the one where it will all hopefully start to make sense. And you also might hang me for it. *posts and runs*

* * *

Mike Chang meant many things to many people. He rarely sought the spotlight during his short life, but what he'd done in the background had left its mark. We, the members of New Directions, were forever changed by our loss.

Stories of Mike's impact on our school poured out of its walls for the next couple of months. The school newspaper did a feature story about Mike, his dancing dreams, and his friends' memories of their good times together. The bulletin board next to the choir room where announcements and sign ups had usually been posted now boasted the words: 'We like Mike.' All of us Glee kids posted pictures of Mike that we'd collected over the previous year. The football players added their own pictures, and pretty soon, kids were taping their pictures of Mike to the wall around the board because there was no more room.

Hank Saunders, the guy who'd left our club after the infamous Mr. Ryerson scandal of last fall, rejoined us in Mike's place, quietly and without much fanfare. He simply showed up at practice one day and told us that he wanted to come back because "Mike would have wanted him to." I'd never even known that Hank and Mike were friends. It turned out that they lived on the same street for nearly their entire lives. Mr. Schue let Hank back in without an audition, and we had the twelve we needed to compete.

Matt Rutherford had been quiet before the accident, but he was practically mute afterwards. Many times, I passed Ms. Pillsbury's office and spotted him seated in front of her desk. Other close friends of Mike now saw our counselor on a regular basis, though none as frequently as Matt. It seemed like the only other student Matt talked to was Tina. He and Tina continued to be a part of lunch group that we'd established during the first week of school, but sometimes they'd break away and eat alone. I knew, when that happened, that they had to be talking about Mike.

Tina missed a lot of school after Mike's death. I didn't see her visiting Ms. Pillsbury very often, and I worried that perhaps she should be spending more time talking to a professional about how she was coping with her loss. On more than one occasion, Tina fled rehearsal in a hurry, and I was sure she was going someplace to cry alone.

Gradually, there was less and less talk of Mike Chang, until finally the bulletin board next to the choir room was the lone reminder of the "other Asian" that once walked these halls. It saddened me to think that next year, the pictures might be taken down, and there would be nothing left but our memories of Mike at McKinley. Losing Mike made me value my own life more than I ever had before. I was grateful that I'd only lost the use of my legs in my accident. I didn't want to take my life, which could have been lost just as easily as it was spared, for granted.

With our invitational coming up, we started having daily rehearsals in the auditorium to polish up the two numbers we'd be using to intimidate our competition, who would undoubtedly show again this year. Mr. Schuester went back to issuing new challenges every week, and every week, someone showcased a new talent. And after two solid months of silence, Matt Rutherford finally held up his hand and spoke.

"Mr. Schuester," he said, timidly, as thirteen pairs of eyes (including Brad and Mr. Schue) turned his way. "I, um…" He stood nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking at the floor as he spoke. "This summer, Mike taught me some of the dances he did at dance camp. I got the DVD of his performance from his parents. I know you gave us a new assignment last week – to show you something inspirational, right? Well, there's nobody more inspirational in my life than Mike Chang…"

That got a round of applause and a standing ovation from us. Mr. Schue beamed proudly at Matt before ushering him up to the stage. I looked across the auditorium at Tina, who was getting teary eyed over the mention of his name again. It felt like she hadn't looked at me for months, but her eyes finally met mine. She gave me a tiny smile.

Matt had evidently worked this out with Jacob, who was upstairs running lights as we rehearsed our invitational's set list. The lights faded to black, leaving just a spotlight on stage. Matt remained still as Jacob slowly lowered the projection screen. A video of Mike doing his famous pop 'n lock started and, beside the screen, Matt danced right along with his best friend, matching every move perfectly. I'd never seen Matt's dancing look so fluid and so fast. We cheered wildly through the entire performance.

"I think everyone would agree that we should include that dance solo – or should I say, duet – at the invitational, Matt," Mr. Schuester announced when Matt had finished, which was met with a chorus of unanimous approval from the group.

Slowly, but surely, we were beginning to heal.

Now that we were entering this new stage of grief, I couldn't help but wonder when it would be okay for me to express my interest in Tina. Was she strictly off limits to me because her new boyfriend had died? Or was it just a matter of time before I was allowed to make my move? And if so, how long did she need? I struggled with guilt over these feelings. A recurring dream of mine involved Mike confronting me at Save-A-Lot, angry that I'd stolen Tina away from him.

First, I asked Mercedes, who was no help at all. "Hell, no, Wheels," she answered right away. "She's just _now _stopped running away from rehearsal to cry in the bathroom over him. It's way too soon to start something with her."

Finn tried to be encouraging. "I say it's been long enough," he reasoned. "Rachel didn't need much time to get over Jesse. Of course, Jesse didn't _die _so it's not really the same thing."

And finally, Kurt suggested I swear off girls altogether, although I was fairly sure that it was just his way of telling me he didn't want to hear about my issues with Tina.

I thought about it all week, but never could decide what to do about the Tina problem. I watched her for signs that she might be ready to let me back into her life, but she remained just as guarded as ever.

Saturday rolled around, which meant I had a break from seeing Tina every day and losing my nerve time and time again. Mom had sent me to Save-A-Lot alone. Alone as in _by myself_. I'd just started driving the van myself after we'd had it adapted for me over the summer. Now that I'd finally completed the necessary steps to become a licensed driver, my parents saw to it that I got plenty of practice. Going places by myself was liberating.

Grocery shopping alone could be a little tricky with the chair. There were all the things I couldn't reach, of course, but Save-A-Lot is so small and personal that it isn't hard to find an employee when you need one. That day, I was just there to pick up food for my sack lunches.

I remembered that I also had to get shampoo while I was there, too, and made my way to the section of the store that contained toiletries, vitamins, and over-the-counter medicine. Thankfully, the brand I liked was right where I could reach it easily. It smells like strawberries, which is kind of a guilty pleasure. I started buying it after I smelled Tina's hair once and caught a whiff of strawberries. Do you see how inconvenient this was getting? I couldn't do a simple thing like buy myself shampoo without thinking of her.

"Are these the right ones?"

Now I was even hearing her voice. The girl on the next aisle over certainly sounded an awful lot like Tina. Feeling the need to investigate, I rolled myself around the corner and peered down the aisle. As luck would have it, her voice wasn't a figment of my imagination. Was this my second chance? I nearly pinched myself, just to make sure I wasn't having the Save-A-Lot nightmare again, the one where Mike attacks me for making a move on his woman.

But Tina was talking to Quinn, who studied the object Tina held with intense scrutiny. Quinn took the object, a small bottle of pills, and turned it over in her hand. "Yeah," she said. "You want these because they've got folic acid, and not the synthetic kind either, but they don't contain lead. You don't want lead."

I couldn't get a good look at the little bottle they were talking about, but I rolled myself back so that I remained hidden behind a large display of cough syrup and continued to listen to their conversation.

"What's wrong with lead?" I could hear Tina asking.

"They say that lead is linked to autism," Quinn replied. Then, in a hushed voice barely audible from where I sat, she added, "You don't want your baby to be autistic."

Was this another nightmare? Any second, Mike would come charging at me wielding a gigantic righteous blade of equality. But instead, I could only listen in helpless horror as Tina quietly agreed with Quinn's assessment of the situation.

"Quinn, thank you so much for helping me," Tina added, also keeping her voice low. "I didn't know where else to turn. You're the only person who really knows what I'm going through. You were pregnant."

_Pregnant. _

Wheelchairs and panic weren't compatible. As I tried to steer away from my hiding place, my right wheel caught the edge of the cough syrup display, causing it to waiver and nearly fall. In order to free myself, I had to roll back slightly. I'd created just enough commotion to draw attention to myself.

"Oh, no..." Upon seeing me, Tina buried her face in Quinn's shoulder. Quinn hugged her protectively and fixed me with a severe look, a clear warning that my next words might be my last if I didn't choose them wisely. The problem was that I simply found myself incapable of speech.

Because Tina wouldn't look at me and my tongue had apparently glued itself to the roof of my mouth, Quinn was the next to speak. "Artie isn't going to tell anyone," she said, still staring me down, as she told me rather than asked me what I was going to do. "It isn't his secret to tell. It's going to be okay, Tina."

It was _not _going to be okay.


	6. A Good Daughter

Sixteen.

That was the number of missed calls Tina now had from me. I'd started making those calls right after eating a tasteless dinner, not that the food was to blame. Mostly, I just chewed and swallowed to keep from hurting Mom's feelings. My sister was paying us a weekend visit so I was off the hook when it came to conversation around the table. Amy likes to talk. I sat in silence, pretending to listen as I ate and thought about Tina.

Sixteen. That was Tina's age when she got pregnant.

Hours earlier, my reaction hadn't exactly helped the situation. When I'd finally remembered how to talk, I could think of only one thing, the thing that all guys think about – sex. Tina had sex with Mike.

"You wouldn't even sit in my lap and make out," was all I could manage to say when the terrible truth hit me like a ton of bricks. "You wouldn't touch me, but you let him get you pregnant?" My voice boomed down the aisle, Tina squeezed her eyes shut, and Quinn frantically reminded me that we were in the middle of a busy store.

"It's not like people aren't going to find out anyway!" I exclaimed.

And that was when Tina ran from me, just as she'd been doing ever since Mike died. Quinn shot me a nasty look before following after her. As for me, I bought my groceries and hurried out of there as fast as I could.

I could only think of how much this hurt _me_, how betrayed I felt, how Tina getting pregnant seriously complicated my life.

Earlier, when I'd been setting the table for dinner, I realized that those who fail to learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. That was the reason I'd lost her to begin with, because it was all about me. If I didn't start thinking about Tina's welfare – and she was more fragile than ever now – I was going to lose her as a friend. When dinner ended and I was alone in my room at last, I picked up my cell phone to text her: _Tina. We need to –_

Cut off by the sudden intrusion of my ringtone, I was thankful to see that Tina had decided to call me back. As a ray of hope shone through the dark clouds, I wasted no time in trying to make things right.

"Tina, I'm sorry for what I said," I blurted out, because Tina always apologized first, sometimes when she didn't need to say 'sorry' at all, and that was one mistake that I had to fix.

"C-can I come over?" she whimpered, her voice shaking badly as she spoke. "My mom wouldn't quit yelling at me so I snuck out."

I sat up straight in my bed, alarmed by the news. "You _snuck _out?" The Tina I knew would never sneak out of her house. Her parents were strict, but she followed their rules, with the sole exception of her wardrobe that I knew they hated. Other than the whole goth thing, however, Tina had always been a "good" daughter. She aimed to please.

"I had to," she said, and I could tell that she was walking around outside and moving quickly, because she sounded slightly out of breath. I closed my eyes, not liking the thought of Tina going out alone after dark, especially in her condition.

"I'll meet you out on the porch," I said, putting my phone on speaker and setting it down on the bed while I moved to transfer into my chair. "Stay on the line, Tina, I really don't like that you're by yourself right now, okay?"

"Okay," she said, in a small voice. When I had settled into my chair, I picked up the phone and hurried to meet her outside. Luckily, Tina only lives a few blocks away from me. And she must have been headed my way before she called me because I spotted her at the end of the street as soon as I rolled myself out onto our porch.

We hung up as she reached the porch, clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, her black and blue hair swept back in a messy ponytail. If she'd been wearing eye make up before, she must have cried it all off by now. Her eyes looked puffy and swollen. I stared as she lowered herself onto the porch swing beside me. She caught me.

"Trying to see how fat I've gotten?"

"Uh, no," I lied quickly, but my eyes did scan her body curiously. Given the way Tina always dressed, in layers upon layers of dark clothing, she might have been able to hide a secret pregnancy for awhile.

She sighed, swinging herself gently with her feet. "Well, Quinn told me I'd just get kind of bloated at first, and she was right about that. I'm gaining weight everywhere, and people probably just think I'm getting fat because I'm depressed."

I bit my lip. I may not always think before I speak, but I know better than to _ever_ comment on a woman's weight.

"Did you tell your mom tonight?" I wanted to know, figuring that had to be why she'd been yelling, but Tina shook her head. I furrowed my brow. "Then why was she mad?"

"She's always mad these days," Tina mumbled, playing idly with the drawstring on her hoodie. "But she's known for almost a month. I guess I'm lucky that I wasn't kicked out like Quinn, but sometimes I think I'm going to have to move in with a friend anyway. I don't know if I can stand being at my house. The only good thing is that my parents usually aren't home, but when they do come around, I get yelled at for everything I do."

I steadied the swing and Tina, sensing what I was trying to do, planted her foot against the porch. In one swift motion, I moved from my chair to the swing so that I could be close enough for Tina to put her head on my shoulder. When she did that, she started to cry again. "I've really let them down, Artie… everyone…"

"You're only human," I whispered, brushing her hair off her face. As much as I wanted to be bitter and angry that she'd gone and had sex with Mike, I forced myself to put her first. As a person who isn't naturally selfless, it wasn't easy to do it. I kept reminding myself that she needed me now.

"More like _two _humans."

I'd guessed by now that Tina planned to have the baby, not get an abortion, because she wouldn't have been buying prenatal vitamins if she didn't intend to stay pregnant. As she settled down, I decided I was in the clear to ask a few questions of my own.

"When are you due?" I asked, and I could see Tina shudder slightly as I spoke. She idly put a hand over her midsection, smoothing the sweatshirt down slightly. I noticed a visible difference already, something I hadn't expected, and tried not to look as startled as I felt.

"Right around spring break, according to my doctor," she quietly informed me, staring down at her sweatshirt clad bump. "I've… sort of been hiding this for a long time. I mean, after Mike… it was the last thing I needed. When I found out, I was in shock at first. I thought we were careful, but…" Tina trailed off, judging by the look on my face that I desperately wanted her to leave that part out.

"… anyway, I took a test and sure enough, I was. I told Quinn because I knew she could help me, and she's helped a lot. But I was still too scared to tell anyone else. I finally _had_ to tell my parents when I started throwing up all the time. And you guys just thought I was crying in the bathroom, I heard Mercedes say that one time…"

As she spoke, I tried to listen, but I was already doing the math in my head. Tina caught on and saved me the effort. "I'm fourteen weeks along," she said, closing her eyes and touching her stomach lightly again. "In six more weeks, I'm already halfway there. I _know _I need to tell people… like, yesterday…"

"Quinn knows, your parents know, I know." I could count the number of people in the know on one hand. Tina nodded, and I knew that except for this select group, she'd managed to hide it from the rest of the world. "What about Mike's parents?"

"I can't tell them," Tina cried, bordering on hysteria now. I soothed her again, smoothing out her hair and giving her a moment to compose herself. She drew in a jagged breath. "It would crush them, to know that Mike…"

"… left them a grandchild?" I finished before she could, and Tina simply looked dumbfounded. "I think they'd be happy about it, Tee. You should tell them. Like, yesterday."

She sighed. "I suppose _someone_ needs to be happy about this baby…" Her voice trembled again, but she wasn't crying now. I couldn't tell Tina what to do about Mike's family. It just wasn't my place.

"_You're_ allowed to be happy," I reasoned, thinking of our other pregnant friend. "Quinn… she was happy about her baby even though she had to give her away."

Nothing I said seemed to bring Tina real comfort. "I don't know what I should do with my baby," she said, bitterly. "It's not like Mike's around to help the way I know Puck tried to help Quinn."

Although I knew helping Tina was the right thing to do, I wished I didn't have to hide my anger. Underneath my calm, supportive exterior, I was still furious at Tina and Mike. Was I even allowed to be angry at a dead guy? I had to remember, it wasn't about me and my feelings. I would tell myself this as long as it took for me to believe it.

"Maybe Mike can't help," I finally said. "But I will."

Something like hope flickered in her eyes as she looked at me, incredulously, taking in the magnitude of what I'd just promised. Without saying a word, she leaned in and kissed me, in a way that was so familiar, so comfortable, and yet… so completely wrong.

I pushed her away. Confusion filled her beautiful eyes, and I hurried to explain. "As your friend, Tee," I whispered, willing her to understand. "Just your friend."

If Tina was hurt by that, she covered it well. Nodding, she rose from the swing and shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. It was time for her to go home, she told me. Her mother was sure to have cooled down by now. I wasn't about to let her walk home alone in the dark so I insisted that she let me accompany her.

" … Maybe you can borrow clothes from Quinn," I said, just to break the silence, as she walked along beside my chair. I meant for it to be funny, even though I wasn't sure if Tina was in the mood to laugh about anything. She looked at me, however, and smirked before slugging me gently in the shoulder.

"Baby dolls dresses and elastic waist pants, I can hardly wait," was her quick retort, but I could tell what she was really thinking as she spouted off her sarcastic reply. _It might come to that._

We'd almost reached her house, but I didn't want to follow her all the way to the door. The idea of Tina's parents being angry, and possibly not knowing that the father of her baby was a dead boy, frightened me. She looked at me and I looked at her.

"I'm going to tell Mr. Schuester on Monday," she told me.

"Just don't do it in song," was the best advice I knew to give her.

Tina smiled.


	7. Goth Bump

A/N: Bonus points if you catch the reference to my favorite show besides Glee. :D As always, thanks for reviewing!

* * *

Tina went back to pushing my chair around school. Only now, rather than pushing me to spare me the effort, I knew it was mostly to hide her changing body. I didn't mind being a shield for Tina. I was glad that it was just another way I could be of help.

Mr. Schuester was an old pro at having a pregnant girl in Glee club and didn't make a big deal about it. He did ask that Tina let Ms. Pillsbury know that same day; otherwise it was his duty to report it to her anyway. Once Ms. Pillsbury had been informed, she set up regular counseling sessions with Tina to talk about her options for the baby and deal with Tina's emotions throughout the pregnancy. During _my _regularly scheduled time with Ms. P, I got her to rearrange my schedule so that I could have a few classes with Tina.

Despite the fact that Tina was running out of time, however, she was having trouble figuring out the best way to break the news to the world outside of the choir room. I joked that she was going to end up telling them all when her water broke, and she gave her standard response of slugging my shoulder. My jokes grew more and more ridiculous, but I could tell Tina appreciated them (as long as I didn't say anything too loudly).

The black hoodie became a standard part of Tina's "goth maternity clothes." I encouraged her to open up a boutique. As days and weeks rolled by, her old hoodie became snug around the middle, causing her to invest in a larger hoodie. She stayed behind my chair as much as possible. It made sense that Tina, being as quiet and low key as she was, could hide a pregnancy much longer than Quinn. But inevitably, there came a day when people began to talk. And Tina surprised me by coming up with a brilliant way to confirm the rumor.

She had leaned over my chair as we walked to Biology together to whisper the idea in my ear. "I want you to let Jacob Ben Israel overhear you talking about me," she murmured. "He puts it on his blog, the world reads it, and I'm out like Kurt Hummel. Let's just get it over with. Kind of like ripping off a band-aid – it's the best way to do it, right?"

I turned over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow at her. She looked nervous, but determined. "Whatever you say, Tee," I told her. "But I personally think the best way to take off a band-aid is slowly and in the shower."

Letting Jacob think that he'd scooped a big story was going to be kind of amusing. I wasted no time in setting up a discussion with Lauren about Tina when I spotted him on the floor, installing our new laser printer. By the time I got home and checked the blog, it was already posted. He'd even snapped a picture of Tina in her oversized black hoodie and had used paint to draw a bright green arrow pointing at her midsection with the words: "Goth bump?" It was very Perez Hilton of him. He hadn't given Tina her own story, but the picture pretty much said it all.

Before it got dark that evening, Tina was on my porch again. I asked if it was another fight with her mother, but she denied this. (Despite the fact that things were pretty uncomfortable at her home, Tina was still living with her parents.) I asked again what was wrong, and she quoted Jacob Ben Israel as she lowered herself onto the swing beside me. "Goth bump."

"I'm confused," I said, frowning. "I thought you _wanted _Jacob to post your big secret on the blog."

"I should have transferred schools," Tina sighed, not really answering my question. "My favorite aunt lives in Kansas. She'd probably take me in for the year. It's probably not too late to ask…"

"What?" My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I stared at her. "Tina, don't say that! Please, please don't leave. You know I'm going to stand by you. Or, well, sit in my case… but please, _please _stay."

She smiled at me. "Yeah, I can't imagine leaving and missing out on Glee club this year." She touched my knee, which was a nice gesture even if I couldn't feel it. "And I can't imagine missing out on a year with my best friend." Her eyes lingered on my appreciative smile, and then she added. "Mercedes would be so upset."

"Oh, _nice,_" I said, shoving her playfully.

She giggled, but then her face became serious again, and I could tell she was thinking about school tomorrow and dreading it. "Can't Ms. Pillsbury put you in _all _of my classes?"

"I've already taken some of your classes, Tee," I said, gently, giving her a quick hug around the shoulders. "You've got Kurt in Pre-Calculus with you. Mercedes is in your gym class. Matt has art with you. You've got an ally in every class."

Tina sighed, but nodded. "I really didn't give Quinn enough credit last year," she commented. "Having your reputation ruined sucks."

"Oh, stop bragging about your _bad_ reputation already," I teased her. "I seem to remember us making that our goal last year. And now you've done it whilst my squeaky clean reputation is still very much intact."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," she told me, wearily.

We swung in silence for awhile before one of us started singing a song we were practicing for Sectionals. Inspired by Mr. Schuester and Puck's performance at the end of last year, New Directions was concluding our show with "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." It was very peaceful, just sitting next to Tina and harmonizing with her, our voices blending effortlessly. As we sang and watched the sun going down, the front door opened and my mother stepped out, carrying two cups of lemonade. She motioned for us to continue singing as she handed us each our drinks and perched on the porch railing to listen. When we finished, she applauded us.

Tina had allowed me to tell _my _parents about her situation shortly after I'd found out. They were surprised, but supportive. And Mom told me on a few occasions that she was proud of me for being a friend to Tina.

Mom knew the baby was a sore subject for Tina, which was why she usually didn't bring it up, but today curiosity must have gotten the best of her. "When do you find out what you're having, Tina?"

Tina looked somewhat startled by the question, but replied, "I have a sonogram in two weeks. My doctor says we'll probably be able to tell."

Mom looked pleased with this answer and leaned down to hug Tina before going back inside. I stared, incredulously, at her as she blushed and pulled her knees up relatively close to her body as we rocked back and forth. "I'll be in week twenty by then," she told me, and I couldn't believe the time was passing so quickly.

Recovering, I defaulted to my standard technique of filling in awkward moments with jokes. "Well, good luck. I hope your doctor can find the penis."

* * *

The next day at school, however, was anything but funny. Tina and I arrived together, and at my advising, she'd ditched the hooded sweatshirt in favor of one of Quinn's maternity shirts. It was one of the few Quinn outfits she'd received that wasn't a pastel color. The black shirt fit snuggly around her belly, and there was now no mistaking Tina for fat. That was undeniably a goth bump.

We were both slushied before our first class. They'd been aiming for Tina, I could tell, but since I was currently serving as her shield, some of it ended up on me. Being slushied wasn't anything new to us, of course, but I could tell that the _reason_ for the hate crime really got to her. I didn't even have to turn around to know that she was crying.

"Come on," I said, tugging her to get her to follow me. I wheeled us both right into the girls' bathroom, without giving my gender a second thought. Thankfully, it was empty.

"Artie!" she hissed. "You can't be in here."

"Like hell I can't," I replied, surveying the unfamiliar bathroom. My eyes landed on a very comfy and inviting object. "Whoa. You have a _couch? _How come you girls get a couch?"

Tina had walked over to the sink and was wringing out her hair. She made a face. "Sometimes we need to lie down."

"Brilliant," I remarked, wondering if perhaps the Glee guys ought to hold another bake sale to get a couch in the boys' bathroom next to the auditorium.

We washed our faces, got ourselves dried off and donned the extra clothing that we'd both become accustomed to bringing in our backpacks. Tina ducked into a stall to change while I unbuttoned my dress shirt and changed into my spare. Tina emerged wearing a dark blue shirt instead that clung to her midsection as a means of confirming the rumor. The blue matched her hair. She looked pretty, pregnant and all, and I told her so. She just rolled her eyes like I'd lost my mind for saying it.

"I figured I'd get slushied," she said, apparently shrugging it off now. I was glad to see that she'd come to grips with it. It wasn't worth tears. Smiling, I let Tina steer me out of the bathroom, and not a moment too soon, as a flock of girls met us at the door. I never could make sense of girls and their habitual group outings to the bathroom. They gave me weird looks as we left. Why was it Kurt could get away with this, but I couldn't?

As it turned out, being slushied and hearing the words "goth bump" being whispered in the halls was only the beginning. And surprisingly, Tina wasn't the victim this time. _I _became the victim. It all started with a sign on the locker above mine, intentionally posted too high for me to remove it myself. The sign had an arrow pointing down at my locker with a very bold message: THE OWNER OF THIS LOCKER STILL HAS THE USE OF HIS PENIS.

I could only recall uttering that exact phrase to _one_ person. And I didn't think she'd ever told anyone what I'd accidentally let slip that day in the auditorium, but apparently, I was wrong.

As I stared at the humiliating message, it became clear what it meant. The writer of that message was under the impression that _I _was the father of Tina's baby. In all the time I'd spent thinking about what would happen today after Jacob's blog announced the big secret, I'd never dreamed that they thought me capable. But then again, no one really knew about Tina and Mike because they'd dated over the summer. Last year, however, Tina and I were always together.

If I could have run out of the school, I would have done it.


	8. Asian and Other Asian

I somehow found my voice as I cried out to those holding me captive, "Please, let me out!" I absolutely could not believe that one year later, I was here again. Opening my mouth turned out to be a mistake as I nearly choked on the putrid fumes. My eyes burned as I rolled my chair back and forth, feebly attempting to gain the attention of someone who might pass by and come to my rescue.

"Leave his pathetic ass in there," I heard Santana tell the others.

It seemed unlikely that they would tip the Johnny-on-the-Spot, my prison, with me inside. But I didn't dare call their bluff. I could only wait it out and suffer, it seemed, unless…

"_Santana." _With full authority of the head Cheerio, the HBIC herself was coming to my rescue. I stopped rolling back and forth to listen in on the conversation between Santana and Quinn. "Let him out. He didn't do anything. Seriously, it's not his baby."

"It isn't?"

I don't know why they suddenly believed it, coming from Quinn, but I hadn't been able to convince them of the fact myself. They found me after school, staring up at that spiteful sign above my locker. Before I knew what was happening, they'd commandeered my chair and taken me hostage. I didn't understand it until I heard Santana mutter to Puck about what a punk I was for taking advantage of Tina while she was grieving her loss. Then it all clicked into place. I'd tried to tell them exactly what Quinn was telling them now, but somehow, my words had fallen on deaf ears.

The door swung open, and Puck yanked me out by my handlebars as I gasped for air, having held my breath in between my shouts of protest. I was surrounded now, the lines clearly drawn with Santana, Puck, Azimio, and Karofsky on one side and Quinn, Brittany, Matt, and Hank on the other. I hung my head in shame, feeling more embarrassed than the last time I'd been rescued from the same situation. Having Finn rescue me wasn't humiliating, but Quinn Fabray wasn't as good a choice for a knight in shining armor.

"It's _Mike's _baby, _obviously_," said Quinn, rolling her eyes, and I didn't appreciate the gesture she made at my crotch when she said it. At _all. _I thought Santana actually blushed, but perhaps her face was just contorting in rage. Whatever the case may have been, I was now the reason for an outright Cheerio bitch fight. Under any other circumstances, it would have been pretty hot.

"So Asian and other Asian made _another _Asian?" Puck mused, eyeing me with what looked like sympathy. "Damn, Wheels, sorry. We weren't really going to tip it over, you know."

"We weren't?" Karofsky and Azimio exchanged looks. One grunted something to the other before they flipped us twin birds and stalked off, looking like two angry gorillas as they went.

"Let go of me, Quinn," I demanded, glaring at the Cheerio whose hand was currently holding my chair in place. She looked startled, but did as I asked. After giving my remaining tormentors dirty looks, I struggled to push myself over the grassy football field. Once I reached the track, however, I was good to go. I left the eight of them standing there to sort it out without me. As for me, I was headed for the parking lot where Dad was surely waiting for me in the van already. My phone had gone off two times in my backpack while I was stuck in the porta-potty. I didn't really _want _to tell Dad that my supposed _friends _had enlisted two thugs to trap me in a shit hole again. But how else was I going to explain my odor?

Tina came running across the parking lot to the best of her ability, supporting her small bump with her hand as she approached me, a frantic look in her eyes. "Matt just texted me," she said, taking whatever was left of my dignity as she spoke. She leaned over and put both hands on my shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Artie."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should be glad they thought it was me," I said, studying my yellow gloves in an effort to ignore her awkward closeness. "That they thought I was a potential candidate." I looked up to scan the parking lot, seeing that the van was nowhere in sight. "Where _is _Dad?"

"Oh, your Mom called me when she couldn't get a hold of you," she said. It still kind of weirded me out that my mother would call my ex-girlfriend, but they were growing close these days. "Your dad's got to go back to his office, some kind of work emergency. I'm your ride today." She wrinkled up her nose, taking her hands off my shoulders and stepping back as she finally caught a whiff of my stench.

It was a quiet drive back to my place and when we got there, Tina followed me to the porch. My house was empty with my parents both still at work and my sister away at college. I didn't even have to ask if Tina was staying. I transferred out of my chair and onto the swing while she held it still for me. She took her customary seat beside me, and I knew we were in for another talk. I didn't immediately realize what we were talking _about, _but I should have seen what was coming.

"So _are _you a potential candidate?" was her first question.

"Well I think you know the answer," I replied, already not liking the direction in which this conversation was headed. "You and I never had sex so, therefore, the answer is most certainly _no._"

"You know that isn't what I meant," said Tina, shooting me a contemptuous glare. "I mean, in theory, should you ever decide to become sexually active, you _are _capable of getting the girl pregnant… aren't you? I mean you said you still had the use of…"

"I was intentionally vague," I said, a mental image of the sign above my locker appearing and bringing a scowl to my face. "Speaking of which, how the hell do people know I told you that? That information was meant to be private."

Tina sighed. "I know, but I ran into Santana right after you told me," she explained, and I wished I'd known this _a year ago. _"She was in the back of the auditorium and heard the whole conversation. She kind of made fun of me for it."

"Oh, perfect," I exclaimed, rolling my eyes.

"Forget about Santana," Tina insisted, studying me intently now. "What exactly do you mean by 'intentionally vague?' You said you can still use your penis. That doesn't seem vague to me."

My instinct was to become defensive because, out of the questions I've been asked, this is the one I flat out refuse to answer. I didn't feel I owed her an explanation, but on the other hand, I didn't just want to keep her guessing either.

"Okay, listen and listen good," I said, firmly. I was not repeating this again. If she wanted to understand, she would have to pay attention. "Having the _use _of my penis is not the same thing as being able to _feel_ down there."

She avoided eye contact, but nodded. I could sense that she still had many, many questions racing through her brain. There were some questions I still couldn't answer myself. Finding out exactly what works and what doesn't is just one of the many reasons I'd like to get some action, but I could never tell Tina that.

"What about…" Tina trailed off, licking her lips nervously. "What about getting a girl pregnant? Are you going to be able to be a dad someday, Artie?" The genuine concern in her eyes made me wonder if she was worried for her own sake as well, secretly screening me as a potential father for future children.

"My doctor said medical intervention might be necessary, but it's still possible."

Tina looked sorry that she'd even asked. She just nodded and put her head on my shoulder, but lifted it again when she noticed my foul odor. I sighed and pulled off my jacket and sweater vest, followed by my button-down shirt. But it was much too cold to sit there in just my navy slacks. Without being asked, Tina took my house key and headed inside to find me something to wear. She returned carrying a hooded Ohio State sweatshirt.

"Found this in your closet," she said, passing it to me so that I could put in on. "I wasn't aware that you owned _any_ sweatshirts. You should have given it to me when I needed to hide my bump."

"Amy gave it to me," I said, recalling how my sister had purchased Ohio State merchandise at the book store when we paid the first family visit to her new home away from home. I pulled it on over my head. "I just wear it when I visit her to make her happy."

I already know Tina doesn't understand my fashion sense, which doesn't bother me since I don't quite get hers either. I'velearned to appreciate that she _does _like to express her unique quirks through her wardrobe. Seeing her stripped of her personality when she was nearly suspended had been disturbing and weird. Even pregnant, she was still expressing herself. She'd accessorized the blue maternity shirt with her blue and black striped gloves, lots of black beaded necklaces and gothic crosses, a black elastic waistband skirt, and her combat boots.

Tina opened her mouth to say something about else the shirt, but stopped abruptly and put her hand on her belly with a tiny gasp. I leaned forward, instinctively putting my hand on top of hers. "Are you okay?" I asked, feeling a bit panicky as I noticed an unreadable expression on her face.

"Hold on…" she said, her look changing to one of intense focus. After a moment, she laughed. "Oh, my God, I can _feel _it, Artie," she said, suddenly delighted. "The baby, I can feel it _moving! _Here, can you feel that?"

She moved her hand to press mine firmly against her belly. I screwed up my face in concentration, but shook my head. She frowned and slipped my hand under her shirt, pressing it even more firmly against her bare skin. I felt nothing other than _bare skin_, and it surprised me that Tina would allow me to touch her stomach like this. I didn't know whether to feel pleased or uncomfortable.

"Sorry," I told her, gently, as I took back my hand. "I don't feel anything."

"Oh," she said, putting her own hand over the bump again and stroking it gently with her thumb. "I guess it's too early for you to feel it, but my doctor told me to be expecting to notice the movement soon. I just never thought it would feel like… like _that._" She stared down and added, "It all seems so real now."

I touched her hand and she let go of her stomach to grip my hand. I recalled when we'd first starting holding hands, right around the time we went to Regionals and placed last. But now instead of holding her hand as a romantic gesture, I meant it to be comforting. As I watched her face change when our hands touched, I wasn't so sure she knew the difference.

There _was _a difference now. Because Tina couldn't have Mike's baby and have me too.


	9. Not Impossible

A/N: I really appreciate all the reviews. I especially liked what **Misery Loves Sarah **had to say. This one's for you, Michelle - **JustRelax**!

* * *

After a few days, Tina's pregnancy scandal and my suspected involvement were old news. When you're a glee club bottom-dweller, you aren't a hot topic for very long. Kurt told me he was jealous of our new-found bad reputations, but that he definitely did not envy the situation that had earned them for us.

Tina's presence at my house became routine, and I suspected that she only went to her own house to sleep. The family life of the Cohen-Chang clan had always been something of a mystery to me. Her parents worked a lot and Tina didn't have any siblings so she spent a lot of time home alone. These days, she said she didn't like being home alone because it gave her too much time to think.

On the days that we didn't stay late for Glee practice, I stayed late for my jazz band practice. Our drummer, Devon, had managed to get us a gig outside of school, a paying gig. We were going to use the money to go to a competition that the school always refused to pay for.

It wasn't uncommon for me to come home from band practice and find Tina in the kitchen helping my mother with dinner. They nearly always baked cookies, chocolate chip and peanut butter ones, because Tina's cravings had kicked in and this was what she wanted. I ate them so much that I started to get sick of them, but Tina happily pigged out.

Sometimes I accidentally overheard conversations between Mom and Tina. One day I heard them talking about the possibility of an adoption and I purposely hovered nearby to listen in. "I just don't know if I could do it," Tina said, as she cracked the eggs into the batter. "Give my baby to strangers? I know I'm not ready to raise a baby, but if I ever find out that he or she has issues with the adoptive parents, it'll be hard to live with the guilt. I wish Mike could help me decide."

That was a real kick in the groin (not that I could feel it), the fact that Tina had actually talked to _my _mother about the baby's daddy. My mom continued to comfort Tina, assuring her that she had time to decide. She could even decide after the baby was born since Ohio law allowed people to drop babies off at the hospital. But when Mom said this, I thought Tina was going to start crying. Even before getting pregnant, Tina had cried a lot. Now she was like a faucet, turning the waterworks on and off frequently.

I used the band's upcoming gig as a distraction, sometimes urging the group to stay later and practice more. They usually listened to me because I was something of a leader for the group. Devon even started volunteering his garage conversion for practice. Our new location technically made us a garage band… if garage bands could have saxophones, trombones, and trumpets.

"Where's Michelle?" I asked one day, looking around and finding that our female saxophone player hadn't showed up at Devon's. The rest of the group was already assembled, but without our sax, it was really pointless for us to practice. Michelle Fleming was a talented player who had joined us in September when she became a freshman.

"I don't know," Devon replied. "She lives right up the street so it's not like it's possible for her to be very late. I'll call her…"

As it turned out, Michelle had failed a math test and wasn't allowed to leave until she corrected her test for a grade of seventy, per strict order of her parents. I was disappointed. If Michelle couldn't make it, we couldn't practice. If we couldn't practice, Tina and Mom were waiting for me at home and there was an hour to kill before dinner.

"What's her address?" I asked, hastily deciding what I could do. She probably took Algebra II or Geometry. It would be a cinch to help Michelle through her homework and speed along the process so that she'd still be able to practice with the band. Devon, sensing my plan immediately, enthusiastically agreed that this was a good idea.

I rolled myself down the street until I came upon an ordinary looking red brick house. I hadn't even let Michelle know I was coming over so I waited a bit anxiously at the door. She answered it herself, clad in navy blue sweats with a pencil stuck behind her ear and a somewhat harassed look on her face. Her eyes scanned down to me, and she immediately brightened.

"Artie!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to your rescue!" I informed her, grinning. "If math is the issue, I'm your man. Can I come in?"

"Sure!" She opened the door wider to reveal a very wheelchair friendly home with its hardwood floors and a wide doorway. As I followed her inside, I observed that it was almost as accessible as _my _house, and I couldn't help but marvel at my good fortune as I easily navigated my way behind her. Michelle led me into a large, open kitchen where her book, calculator, loose leaf paper and a test covered in red ink were spread out on the table. She glared down at her work as I eased my chair under the table where a chair was conveniently missing.

"I take it you don't really care for math," I said, noticing the disgusted face she made as she sat back down in front of her work.

"Understatement of the century," she muttered, glancing at her test and blushing slightly. I personally hadn't ever received a grade that low in my life, and I could imagine that to a person who cared about grades as it appeared Michelle did, it would be quite devastating.

"But if you correct this, you get a seventy?"

Michelle exhaled. "Not if," she amended. "_When._ I'm not allowed to go anywhere until it's done. I'm surprised they let me answer the door." She glanced in the living room, where I could hear the television lightly droning in the background.

Michelle's mother, an English teacher at our school who had me in her class last year, popped her head into the doorway and said, "Hi, Artie, what brings you here?"

"Michelle needs a math tutor," I said, smiling at Michelle who countered with a tiny smile of her own. "And we need a saxophone player. If I can teach Michelle the material, can she come out and play?"

Michelle's mother laughed and the sound of a lower, booming laugh joined in. A man I took to be her father entered the kitchen, pushing himself in a wheelchair. Suddenly, the mystery of the accessible house was solved as he stuck out a hand to shake mine. "Brandon Fleming," he said, by way of introduction.

"Artie Abrams," I replied, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm a former student of your wife and a friend of Michelle." _And a fellow paraplegic, _I thought, noticing that his legs were positioned much like mine were and remained still in his footrests. In the few months that I'd known Michelle, she'd never mentioned that her dad was in a wheelchair.

"Artie here is a whiz at math," Michelle added. "He's going to help me. If I finish, can I go to band practice, puh-lease? They really, really need me. We have a gig coming up…"

"As long as dear old mom and dad are invited to your gig," Mr. Fleming said, grinning as Michelle looked slightly horrified at the thought of her parents showing up. "Okay, we'll compromise, as long as you promise to videotape it."

Michelle leaned over to kiss her dad's cheek. "Thanks, Daddy."

Michelle's parents left us alone to work on her Algebra test. She was more confused than I'd anticipated. Michelle told me that her mother taught high school English and her father taught college Literature, and consequently, neither of them was much help in the math department. But despite her right-brained way of thinking, I managed to help her make the corrections in under an hour.

"Artie, I really get it now," she said, her spirits much higher now. "You're a good teacher, you know that?"

"And now," I said, pushing myself away from the table. "It's time to get our jazz on! Are you ready to go?"

"Be right back," she said, as she slipped her papers into her notebook and put the book and notebook away in her book bag. "I'll get my sax and tell my parents where I'm going, okay?"

"Okay," I said. When she had gone, I roamed out of the kitchen and into the hallway to wait on her. Like most household hallways, the Flemings' hall was lined with family pictures. In one picture where Michelle was very little, her father was standing up and holding her.

"Yeah, the wall of shame," Michelle said, coming up behind me and smiling. She covered one photo with her hands. "Oh, my Lord, I told them to take down my sixth grade yearbook picture and they won't do it."

Curiosity got the best of me as we were leaving and I had to ask. "So, what's the story with your dad?" I inquired. "You never mentioned him to me."

"Oh, I didn't?" she replied, falling into step beside me. "It happened when I was two years old so I don't remember him before his accident. He was traveling alone really late at night, fell asleep at the wheel, and hit a tree. Now he's a T-12 complete."

"Oh, crazy," I murmured, getting chills. She hummed in agreement. "Mine was a car accident, too. I was eight. Mom was trying to get off the highway and a person getting on ran into my side of the car. I'm a T-11/T-12 complete, pretty much the same as your dad."

It was interesting to talk to a person who actually knew that these initials and numbers referred to the level on my vertebral column at which I'd been injured

"I can't believe I didn't tell you about him," she commented. "Or that Mom never mentioned him in your class. I guess I don't really think about it because, to me, he's always been that way."

I nodded thoughtfully. "And… you have a little brother," I realized, thinking of what I'd just seen in the pictures.

"Yeah, Todd," she said. "He's ten. He's annoying."

"Four years younger than you," I calculated.

"You _are_ good at math."

"I just meant that he was born _after _your dad's accident," I said, looking at her for confirmation, and she nodded. "So your dad was still able to have children after he was paralyzed."

"Yeah, like you, apparently," she joked.

"_What?" _I stopped abruptly and she turned back to look at me quizzically. Realizing what she thought, I hastened to correct her. "No, no, Tina's not having my, um… we're not even together."

"Oh, my mistake," she said, blushing slightly as she adjusted her saxophone case. She paused, and then asked, "So, if you're not the dad, who _is _the dad, and does he care that you two are always hanging out together?"

I explained the situation with Mike as quickly and concisely as I possibly could, even though there was nothing simple or concise about it (although it had certainly been quick). Michelle listened kindheartedly as I described the recent misunderstanding we'd had with Puck and Santana.

"Well, my brother Todd is living proof," she said, touching me reassuringly on the shoulder. I thought she might reach down and start pushing my chair, but she let me push myself. "It _is _possible."

I smiled.


	10. Stand By Me

A/N: **StudyInViolet,** I realized I left a pretty major question unanswered and, although I knew the answer to that question myself, it was important to inform the readers. So thank you! Once again, **Misery Loves Sarah **(awesome name) has given me a lot to think about in writing future chapters. And **JustRelax, **most people who are good writers like yourself suck at math. ;D

* * *

"Dude, amazing job tonight," Devon said, slapping me on the shoulder as Micah unloaded my wheelchair and bass out of the trunk for me.

I grinned from the passenger seat, barely able to hear him over the blaring music. Directly behind me, Michelle, Gavin, and Abbie were belting out Lady Gaga. In the way back, Nick and Rider were shamelessly berating Gavin for being a "homo." If Kurt knew what my band friends were like, he'd be horrified, to say the least. It was one of many reasons I didn't mix friends outside of Glee practice.

I got into my chair and said my goodbyes, realizing I was ten minutes past curfew right as I rolled in the front door. "Mom?" I called out as I closed the door behind me, unsure of what would happen. I had never stayed out past my weekend curfew before. I figured it was best to start explaining right away. "I lost track of time and they all wanted to get ice cream. I didn't mean to be late…"

She came rushing to the door, shushing me as I spoke. "It's fine, sweetheart, just call next time," she told me. "Keep your voice down. Tina fell asleep on the couch."

Tina was here? I thought, or rather hoped, that she'd made plans with Mercedes or Quinn or Kurt or _someone_. I rolled into the living room as slowly as possible, trying not to make noise as Mom headed back into the kitchen. Sure enough, Tina was curled up on our couch snuggled under an afghan. A bowl of popcorn sat in the middle of the table next to a glass of chocolate milk that was almost empty. Tossed haphazardly on the table was a square of light blue fabric that she'd been crocheting. Sitting next to that was a pregnancy book I'd seen Tina reading. Her place was saved with a picture. I rolled myself up to the couch and picked up the book, opening it to the bookmark. She'd been reading about week twenty-two of her pregnancy.

"At eleven inches and almost one pound, your baby is starting to look like a miniature newborn," it read. I shifted my gaze to Tina, who looked so peaceful curled up on the couch with that one pound, eleven inch replica of Mike Chang growing inside her. My focus changed from the book to the paper I held that had been marking her place. I realized right away that I was holding her latest ultrasound. The picture did, indeed, look like a profile of a miniature newborn. My eyes scanned down to the writing in the middle of a picture. An arrow was drawn that pointed in between the baby's legs. Beside the arrow were the words: "I'm a boy!"

A boy. So Tina was having a boy.

I replaced the bookmark and learned forward to return the book to the table. As I did this, Tina stirred and her eyes fluttered open. She smiled when she saw me and then stretched, yawning and pushing the afghan off of her body. "What time is it?"

"Twenty minutes until midnight," I reported, keenly aware of the time. I gestured at the book and the blue fabric. "So, it's a boy?"

"That's what I was told last week," she said, drowsily, pushing herself into a sitting position and adjusting the couch pillows behind her.

"Last week?" I echoed. "And you didn't tell me when you found out?"

Tina averted her eyes. "You seemed kind of busy," she said. "Anyway, it's not like it's going to be _my _baby. It's not like I'm keeping it. So I might as well not make a big deal about it."

I wondered why she was making a baby blanket if she didn't plan to keep the baby or make a big deal out of it. Perhaps she wanted to give her son a memento to remember his birth mother. This was the first I'd heard of a definite plan for the baby. Her voice shook slightly as she told me, but she did not cry. I studied her for a moment before transferring myself to the couch. She pulled up her feet to make room.

"Have I been ignoring you?" I asked, knowing the answer to that question before it even left my lips. Overwhelming feelings of guilt surged inside of me. Tina hadn't even sought me out to tell me it was a boy. She was spending more time with my mother than with me. I was going out with all my band friends and leaving her behind.

"You're just distracted," she said, sighing a bit. "Quinn told me the hardest thing about being pregnant is never being able to completely distract myself, especially now that I can feel the baby moving. But it would have been _nice_ to have a distraction tonight."

_In other words, why didn't you invite me to your gig, Artie?_ I could hear what she wasn't saying. I'd learned, from spending so much time with Tina and her pregnancy hormones, that she wasn't always saying everything she was thinking. She'd developed a way of telling me without directly telling me, and I was expected to decode.

"The club we played at was kind of smoky," I hurried to explain, supposing that this reason sounded sincere enough. "I was worried about you and the baby being in that environment."

But she frowned, clearly not buying it. "You said it was _teen _night," she pointed out, negating my argument. "So no one would have been smoking. Are you sure that maybe you just didn't _want _me and my baby in that environment? I know they still think its yours, Artie, and that it makes you uncomfortable."

"So _correct _them, will you?" I blurted out.

"What, and get those awful pitying looks when I tell them my baby's father was killed in a terrible accident?" she shot back, piercing me with her words. "Artie, I'm sick of explaining it, okay? You explain it to them."

"Why should _I_ have to be the one to explain it when I didn't do anything?" I countered, noticing my mother as she snuck in to hover in the corner. When she caught my eye, she shook her head slowly, willing me to shut my mouth. I did not. "Besides, it inevitably leads people to ask whether I _can _have kids, and that isn't a question I like to address with people who are practically strangers."

Tina glared at me before jumping to her feet, wadding up the afghan and throwing it at me. "Oh, I forgot," she said, her words dripping with bitter sarcasm. "It's all about _you_, isn't it? Just like it always was."

She stormed out in a hurry, muttering her thanks to my mother on the way out. When I dared to look up at Mom, she was glaring at me, too. I braced myself for a lecture, but surprisingly, she said nothing. Instead, she sighed deeply and walked back into the kitchen. In some ways, that silent disappointment was even worse.

* * *

A strange thing happened to me on Monday at school. I got slushied. Getting slushied is something that happens to me, on average, every two weeks. The jocks only have so much ice and corn syrup to go around, and sometimes they overlook me because they forget to look down as they're walking. The strange part was not being slushied. The strange part was that my tormentors were two fellow Glee clubbers.

"Mine was for Tina," Quinn snarled at me, hovering over my chair as I backed myself straight into a corner, hitting the wall. "And the one Mercedes hit you with is for her baby. You're lucky I'm not a hormonal mess myself or I'd probably kill you."

"Less is more, Quinn," Mercedes pulled Quinn away from me ever so slightly, but after taking a second to apparently think it over, she then stepped forward to empty the remaining liquid right over my head. "_That _is for Mike," Mercedes added, as purple corn syrup seeped under my shirt color and down my back, causing me to shiver.

I would not give them the satisfaction of provoking a reaction from me. Instead, I muttered, "Fair enough." Giving my wheels a hard push, I barreled right between them, knocking them both to the side as I hurried to make my escape. To my extreme relief, they let me go.

"LIMA _LOSER_ coming through!" I heard Quinn call after me.

Karofsky and Azimio passed me as I rolled by and roared with laughter. Other than this, no one reacted because to them, it was just another typical day of seeing a geek get slushied. I stopped by my second period class to obtain a pass to the boys' restroom. I could feel their eyes on me as I avoided looking at my classmates. I especially didn't want to see Tina, who I knew was lurking in the back on my class, watching me along with everyone else.

As I rolled off to the restroom, I became aware that she was following me down the hall. I expertly ignored her, feeling justifiably angry over the fact that she'd ratted me out to her mob of angry girls. (Okay, two angry girls, but when they're as vicious as Quinn and Mercedes, it might as well be a mob…)

She followed me right into the boys' restroom, inciting me to turn sharply and order her out. "You can't be in here."

"Like hell I can't," she fired back, crossing her arms across her bump. Today, she was wearing a long sleeved grey thermal that clung to her middle, clunky black jewelry, a blue and grey plaid skirt, black knee socks with skulls on them, and her combat boots. The sight of a pregnant Asian vampire was sure to scare any wandering boys out of the restroom. She pulled a towel out of her messenger bag and thrust it at me. Realizing that this was the _one_ day I'd actually forgotten to bring my own towel, I reluctantly accepted it.

"Mercedes and Quinn did this to me," I informed her, sharply, as I dried my face. "They were defending your honor, as well as your Asian spawn and the baby daddy."

She sighed. "They shouldn't have done that…"

I gave her an exasperated look, but just nodded and continued to dry off in obstinate silence. Since there was no couch, she simply leaned against the wall and watched me quietly.

"Have you even told Mike's parents?" I blurted out. She looked at her shoes and I scowled at her. "Yeah, I thought so. Matt told me you don't go to church with he and Mercedes anymore. Is it because the Changs are there?" She nodded miserably. "Tina, you have to tell them."

"I was kind of hoping I could have some _support_ when I tell them," she said, after a moment, raising her chin to look at me with an air of insolence. "But lately, you're never even around. You never even _asked_ how my sonogram turned out, Artie! You don't care what happens to me or my baby..."

She was crying again, which instantly bought her a way out. I couldn't tell if she was crying to manipulate me or crying because of the hormones or crying because that was what Tina Cohen-Chang always did. It affected me, in spite of my determination to be hard and uncaring with her.

"I _do _care," I said, meekly. "I just don't know how to help."

"Stand by me," she said. "Or sit, whatever the case may be." Tears swam in her eyes, but she kept them at bay now. "Just please don't make me do this alone."

I sighed and rolled forward, opting to take her by the wrist instead of the hand, not wanting to send the wrong message. "You're not alone."


	11. Sectionals

A/N: The rapid updates may slow down soon, but not for lack of inspiration! I'll be pretty busy soon, but rest assured, I fully intend to write a complete story. And I'm trying to set a new personal record in length, which means I have a ways to go. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I hope that this will be my first story with reviews in the double digits. Couldn't do it without you guys.

* * *

Our lives became one big countdown to Tina's due date, a day that we feared. Weeks twenty-three, twenty-four and twenty-five were spent enjoying the Christmas and New Years' holidays. I didn't know what to buy for a pregnant goth who was just my friend so I ended up giving her a Visa gift card with the money I had left over from our band gig. I figured she didn't want to be stuck with nothing but Quinn's pastel sundresses to wear when spring arrived.

Week twenty-six was our first week back at school, and Tina had grown a lot over the holidays, partially due to an increase in the availability of fatty foods, according to her somewhat insensitive and blunt doctor. She was putting on a little bit _too much _weight, a fact that only brought on more tears, and armed with this knowledge, Tina used her gift card and the money my parents had given her for Christmas to buy a gym membership. Mom allowed me to get one, and we started swimming in the indoor pool together. By week twenty-seven, she'd actually lost weight, although her growing belly appeared as prominent as ever.

Week twenty-eight welcomed us to the third trimester, the final twelve weeks of Tina's pregnancy, which meant that she had to start seeing her doctor every two weeks. The baby weighed approximately two and a quarter pounds and could now blink his eyes, according to her pregnancy book. When Tina wasn't reading this book, I would borrow it to find out what was going on with her. I dared to read ahead only once, and after finding out more than I ever wanted to know about week forty, I returned Tina's book to her for good.

During week twenty-nine, the jazz band competed and placed second out of five schools, which was impressive considering it was our school's first competition since the nineties. I invited Tina to the competition, and she sat with my parents. When my band friends went out to celebrate afterwards, I simply went home.

During week thirty, New Directions prepared to go to Sectionals. This year, Sectionals weren't until the first week in February, which meant that although we'd had plenty of time to prepare, we were going to end up being rushed when it came time for Regionals. Yet again, the girls were forced to wear poofy skirts to hide a pregnant belly on the team. Yet again, we'd raised money to make sure I had a wheelchair accessible bus. And yet again, we worried that somehow our set list had been leaked, despite the fact that Mr. Schuester had gone to the trouble to leak a phony one himself.

At last, the day of Sectionals arrived. I couldn't help but worry about Tina because, although Quinn danced right up until the day she delivered, I suspected she hadn't been following her doctor's orders. Or perhaps Quinn's doctor thought that Glee club just involved standing on risers and singing "When the Saints Go Marching In." In any case, I feared anything that might bring on early labor.

As Kurt tied my shiny blue tie, a nice compliment with our usual black shirts and dress pants, we waited for the girls to come out in their costumes. One by one, they filed in their poofy skirts. The only noticeable difference between Tina and the other girls' dresses was that her skirt looked a tad fuller. She also had an amble bust that rivaled Mercedes. Being only human and male, I couldn't help but notice.

"Feeling okay?" I asked, as we lined up to take the stage. She gave my shoulder a squeeze and nodded, saying nothing as she idly touched her belly. She'd told me that the baby's movements were a lot stronger now. Sometimes she reported that the kicks even hurt a little.

I kept Tina in sight as we took the stage, watching her out of the corner of my eye no matter where she was on the stage. Once I messed up my choreography a bit, but seeing as nobody else on stage was dancing in a wheelchair, it didn't exactly matter. Our first number was a fast-paced one, mostly featuring Kurt and Mercedes, who had finally been awarded the duet that they most definitely deserved. The next number was a bit slower and featured several soloists, myself included. Finally, we closed with "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," which started out with Rachel singing by herself and gradually added the rest of us. Tina never missed a step and sang just as loudly as she always did.

Having just given our best performance to date, we fled the stage excitedly, all of them running down the stairs as I detoured to take the ramp back to the dressing room. Something made me turn back, however, and I took in the sight of Tina hunching over by herself.

"Tee!" In an instant, I was by her side. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and all the color seemed to be gone from her face. I could see that she'd been sweating profusely under the lights as all her makeup was smudged. "Here, sit down, sit on me…"

She obeyed, continuing to breathe rapidly and unevenly as I stroked her hair, feeling a bit helpless. I didn't know what was going on, but the way she was clutching her stomach made me anxious. After a few moments, Mr. Schuester came running back up the stairs with Quinn trailing along behind him.

"Tina?" Mr. Schuester leaned over her as she struggled to catch her breath. "Quinn, go get her mother, find out if –"

"NO!" Tina surprised us all by crying out at the suggestion that her mother be involved. I understood immediately that if _anyone's _mother needed to be involved, it was mine.

Quinn, our resident expert, stayed calm. "Mr. Schue?" she began. "Tina might just be tired." (At this, Tina nodded.) "She's okay, guys, she just got a little too hot. She just needs water. Tina, don't get up yet and take slow, deep breaths."

As Mr. Schue ran off in search of water, Tina's breathing thankfully began to even out again. She stopped clutched her stomach, but continued using me as a seat. "My body is rebelling against my will," she said, and I chuckled, relief overtaking me as she finally stopped hyperventilating. "God, how did you do it, Quinn?"

Quinn shrugged. "I guess Cheerios practice in ninety-five degree heat prepared me for dancing in my last trimester," she reported. "You don't exactly have my background as an athlete so it's harder for you."

Tina frowned slightly, a little affronted by Quinn's bluntness. Mr. Schuester came back in record time with a bottle of water for Tina, and I watched her down the whole thing at once. After finally catching her breath, she looked at me and realized she was still in my lap. "Am I crushing you?"

_Probably,_ I thought, but didn't dare say that. Instead, I gently reminded her that I couldn't really feel it. Tina giggled and stood up, losing her balance at first and then recovering. She smoothed out her skirt, appearing as good as new and smiling brightly to show it. I was having difficulty recovering myself. She'd given me a good scare.

We returned to the audience to sit through Haverbrook School for the Deaf's set list, which included a performance of "Seasons of Love" that I had to admit was kind of cool. Sectionals ended with the Jane Addams Academy girls as they took on the Supremes, which brought a worried grimace to Mercedes' face as she watched from the seat beside me. When the other schools' performances were finished, we all headed back to the lobby to wait for the results.

"Tina?" I turned when I heard an unfamiliar voice calling out her name. And froze when I saw who it was, causing Hank Saunders to fall over my chair and swear at me.

Mike Chang's mother was making her way through the crowd and seeing this, Tina shoved Hank aside to dive behind my chair. I knew at once that Tina had put off seeing the Chang family for much, much too long. And now, here was Mike's mother, and even my bulky wheelchair and the poofy skirt on Tina's costume couldn't hide that tell-tale bulge once Mrs. Chang was close enough to get a good look at Tina.

As crowds of people scurried all around us, the three of us were very still, Mrs. Chang's eyes falling at once to the evidence beneath Tina's costume. She looked at me, and I suspected her to be weighing the possibility of my involvement in her mind. I shrank under her scrutiny.

Tina saved me with the truth. "It's Mike's," she blurted out, and a few other heads turned in our direction, including a concerned Mr. Schuester and a scandalized Mercedes. I watched Tina swallow hard, but she stood her ground as she looked Mrs. Chang right in the eye. Of all the ways his mother could have found out, I knew this wasn't the idea Tina had in mind. It wasn't the plan that she and I had cooked up. Tina was supposed to give her a call, and the two of us would visit the Changs together to explain.

"I… I'd heard," Mrs. Chang said, to everyone's surprise, and I wondered if she hadn't come to Sectionals exclusively for the purpose of checking the facts herself. Overcome with emotion, however, she stepped forward and embraced Tina as she began to cry. Mrs. Pillsbury rushed forward to lead the hugging women off to an empty couch in the busy lobby so that they could talk privately.

I remained at a distance and watched as Tina began talking, pouring out the story for Mike's mother who wore an expression of mixed emotions, although the most obvious one was joy. She'd lost a son, but he wasn't entirely gone. He'd left something behind. No matter how sketchy the circumstances, this was good news for her.

"I saw this happen on _Days of Our Lives,_" I heard Santana tell Brittany and I silently agreed that the whole scene was like something out of a soap opera.

"My cat is pregnant," Brittany added, inconsequentially. "The daddy cat doesn't know."

We couldn't linger to watch the rest of the conversation between Tina and Mrs. Chang because we were already being called back to take the stage for the results. The judges had wasted no time in making their decision, which could either be good or bad. As the rest of us hurried back into the auditorium, however, Tina stayed behind.

I couldn't even focus as the three teams gathered onstage to hear the results. All I could think about was Tina and how I needed to be back in that lobby to help her talk to Mike's mother. Meanwhile, the runner-up was announced, and not surprisingly, second place went to Haverbrook this year. I saw one of the Jane Addams girls sneak a peak at the results card before the judge made her announcement. She made a disgusted face and we all knew, before the result was even read, that New Directions had taken Sectionals once again.

Celebration ensued onstage, but my only concern was leaving the stage and getting through the audience to find Tina. Unfortunately for me, the chair complicated my desire to hurry and I ended up making it to the lobby just seconds before the rest of my team. When we arrived, we found Tina sitting on the couch alone.

"What happened?" Tina wanted to know. "Did we win?"

"Naturally," Rachel replied, quickly.

"What happened with _you?_" Quinn asked, taking a seat next to Tina and instantly putting her arm around her as though they were best friends.

Tina bit her lip. "What happened is that I should have told Mrs. Chang a long time ago," she told us all, and her eyes fell on me as I nodded slowly. "But we're going to get together and talk over dinner soon. They're really happy about the baby."

She scooted to the end of the couch and reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I squeezed back, my way of telling her it would all be okay now. She drew in a deep breath, but gave me a smile and a nod.

I thought the shiny trophy that Mr. Schuester was holding, one more trophy to put next to the many Cheerios trophies at McKinley. I thought about the baby and Tina and the Changs. I thought about the other Asian. I couldn't hate him, no matter how hard I tried.

_This one's for you, Mike._


	12. Anything Mike Can Do

A/N: Okay, so I'm not too busy just *yet.* I hope this chapter doesn't feel like filler. I also hope you guys will get me to 100 reviews! I can't wait to see that happen.

* * *

Swimming with Tina was a lot better than the swimming I did for physiotherapy. My therapist always encouraged me to swim on my own, but I didn't always have access to a pool, especially in winter. Considering the fact that I spend an average of 12-14 hours a day in my chair, it's always great to be in a place where I don't have to just _sit._ More importantly, swimming helped Tina relieve the back pain that was making her so miserable.

I watched her float on her back, resisting the urge to comment on how funny it looked to just see two bumps sticking out of the water, her head and her belly. I looked kind of weird when I swam, too, but for very different reasons. Tina thinks it looks like I'm drowning when I tread water. I told her that if I'm tired, I pretty much am drowning.

When our fingertips wrinkled up like prunes, it was time to get out. As I treaded water/drowned, I observed Tina dog paddle over to the shallow end and ascend the steps holding on to the railing carefully. Her wet black t-shirt clung to her belly so that I could see her convex belly button poking straight out. I resisted the urge to tease her about it, knowing that _some _of my jokes were no longer considered funny, particularly jokes about Tina's new body.

I used my arms to hoist myself up onto the pool and lingered on the side next to my empty wheelchair for a moment, letting my feet dangle in the water as I leaned back on my hands for support. Tina walked to where I sat and joined me. I studied her feet as she lowered them into the pool, taking notice of the way her ankles were agonizingly swollen.

"I don't think I've ever seen you without a shirt," she observed, quietly, and I realized that she was right. I happen to think my pectoral muscles and my shoulders look good, thanks to all the work they do when I'm pushing my chair up inclines. It was also the first time Tina had seen my scrawny, unused legs, which I don't particularly like.

"I don't think I've ever seen _you _without a shirt," I mused, thinking wistfully that if only our relationship had lasted through summer, there surely would've been dates at the pool or maybe even the lake. _If only. _She blushed and adjusted the fabric that clung to her middle.

"Oh, God, you don't want to see now," she moaned. "But Quinn gave me some cream that really gets rid of stretch marks. I hope I can wear a bikini again someday."

"That makes two of us." Tina's blush deepened and I mentally scolded myself for how I'd just accidentally let myself to flirt with her. We were friends and nothing more, but sometimes the lines got slightly blurred. One look at the protruding belly was usually all it took to remind me where I stood with her.

"You'll bounce back," I reasoned. "Just find out Quinn's secret."

"I am _not _trying out for Cheerios."

"I'm sure that most of what you've gained is just the baby and water weight," I told her, sensibly. "That's what your book said. And I can tell that you're retaining water because your face is awfully swollen."

"You always know just how to make me feel better," Tina replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She shoved me playfully and I shoved her right back. She winced, but not because I'd shoved her too forcefully. Her hand went to her belly and she began rubbing a spot. "And _this _guy does too."

"Hurts?" I asked, curiously.

"Not really…" she told me. "I can't really describe it. Here, just feel it." She placed my hand on top of her wet t-shirt, right above the place where her navel stuck straight out and pressed down firmly. Unlike the first time she'd tried to show me, I really _could_ feel something now. Her eyes lit up when she saw the look of realization in mine.

"I guess the baby can pop 'n lock, too," I said, speaking without thinking. Tina bit her lip. We rarely ever talked about Mike these days. Tina hardly acknowledged that the baby was his. "When are you talking with his parents?"

"Tomorrow night at six 'o clock," she whispered, closing her eyes and continuing to rub the offending spot. I nodded, having expected that Mike's parents would waste no time in sitting down with Tina.

"You'll be fine."

"Come with me, Artie," she suddenly said, leaning against my shoulder as she spoke. I couldn't tell if that was a request or a directive. Either way, I didn't think it sounded very appropriate for me to go along.

Sitting around a strange dinner table, struggling to eat with my chopsticks while being treated to a conversation about Mike and Tina and the baby, did not sound like a comfortable situation. So what possessed me to smile and tell her I'd be there? I don't know. She looked desperate. Maybe it was also my foolish hope that, in ten weeks, this baby would be born and adopted and we could forget the whole thing ever happened.

* * *

As I collected my books after the final bell of the school day, I was accosted by someone grabbing my chair and spinning me around. I stopped mid-protest when I saw that it was just Michelle, holding up a recent Algebra exam. Beaming proudly, she danced a circle around my chair and I, taking this to mean that it was good news, danced with her.

"Ninety-two!" she told me, indicating the number at the top of the page. "I don't think I've gotten an A on a math _test _in years. At least, not on the first try. I owe you, like, big time!"

I laughed, but said, "You don't owe me. Your parents already pay me twenty dollars a week to tutor you, remember? That's more than enough. Although if you can talk them into giving me a raise, I'd like to buy new shoes."

Michelle rolled her eyes at me. "You own a ridiculous amount of shoes for a wheelchair kid, you know that, right?" She grinned as I nodded. "I have a better idea. Come bowling with me and my family."

"_Bowling?_" I raised my eyebrows, trying to picture myself rolling up to the lane with a bowling ball in my lap and attempting to throw it from my wheelchair. Michelle read my look of skepticism with the expertise of someone who understands my situation and just giggled.

"Dad loves to go bowling," she informed me. "Probably because he used to be in a bowling league when he was dating my mother. That's actually how they met. Anyway, it's a pretty wheelchair friendly sport. My dad had to adjust his technique after his accident, obviously, but he'd be happy to teach it to you the skills. He's the one who suggested I invite you bowling. It's for his birthday. So, what do you say? Will you go with us? It'll be fun."

Who could resist enthusiasm like that? Plus, if Mr. Fleming wanted to invite me to his birthday celebration with the family, that sounded cool to me. I'd been meaning to find some time to talk to Michelle's dad. I really wanted to know what it was like to be a paraplegic _and _a father. Not for any reason other than to satisfy my own curiosity, of course.

"Okay," I said. "When?"

She giggled again. "Um, right now? Sorry for such short notice. I kind of cooked up the plan in advance, hoping you'd go for it. Did it work?" She crossed her fingers hopefully.

Michelle was so enthusiastic about this bowling idea that I couldn't say no to her. After I called my dad to tell him I didn't need a ride, I got the Flemings' handicapable van and we took off for the bowling alley. We arrived and, to my great amusement, Mr. Fleming insisted on getting the bowling shoes that came with his rental. I immediately told him that I'd rented roller skates when the Glee club had gone to the rink, and he laughed appreciatively at that.

Once we had our balls and shoes, Mr. Fleming wasted no time in teaching me how he rolled himself to the side of the lane, hit the break on his chair just in case, and leaned as far forward as he could to drop the ball. It rolled slowly, but in a straight line. I watched in amazement as his ball knocked over nine pins. The tenth pin wobbled, but remained standing. On his next throw, he expertly picked up the spare.

On _my_ turn, I rolled a zero, although my second throw almost clipped one of the pins. Michelle cheered me on from behind and then proceeded to knock over a mere two pins on her own turn. We were no match for her parents, the former competitive bowlers, or her ten-year-old brother with his wild, yet effective, technique. Gradually, however, my game did improve. I beat Michelle by three points.

They were going out to dinner next and gave me the option of going home or accompanying them to the restaurant. Celebration was in order for both Mr. Fleming's birthday _and _Michelle's good grade. I was having a lot of fun with the family, and I still wanted an opportunity to talk to Mr. Fleming, so I went along.

When Michelle and her mother had left the table to use the ladies' room after our meal, I took advantage of their absence to talk to Mr. Fleming. Todd was there, but he was exclusively dedicated to finishing off a huge plate of pasta. Todd was not a large kid by any stretch of the imagination, but he sure could eat.

"So Todd is, um, ten?" I asked, even though Michelle had told me herself. I was trying to lead into the question casually so as not to seem awkward by abruptly asking the older man if his swimmers still got the job done post-accident.

Luckily, he seemed to realize what I was getting out without my having to be painfully obvious. "Yup, our miracle kid," he supplied, as Todd remained focused on his fettuccine.

Keeping my voice low, I took this as an open invitation to ask more questions. "Did it take anything… anything _medical?_" Todd never looked up and I knew that, even if he had heard me, he wouldn't have caught on.

Mr. Fleming was understanding and didn't appear bothered by the question. "Just the use of a little blue pill I almost refused to try because it's normally the sort of thing that older men use to get the job done," he replied. I'd gotten used to having blunt and embarrassing conversations about my body with adults. Hearing this didn't faze me at all as I adjusted my glasses and nodded.

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for, but it certainly sounded less invasive than some of the procedures I'd read about. Not that I was obsessed with the idea of having kids or anything. I was only seventeen, afterall. It just made me feel like more of a man to know that I could still do anything Mike Chang could do.

Thinking of Mike reminded me of something I'd forgotten. In horror, I checked my watch and realized I was supposed to have met Tina at the Changs' house over an hour earlier.

_I _was a dead man.


	13. Wishful Thinking

A/N: Oh, my goodness, 105 reviews! I am _so _excited, thank you! **frostedcupcakes**, I hadn't really given the fact that Michelle is the female version of Mike much thought. I was just naming her after a friend of mine (**JustRelax**) But you're totally right and that is way awesome. So thanks very much for pointing it out and thanks, **JustRelax** for having a great name. Also? I just can't seem to take a break. Writing is good stress relief.

* * *

I didn't have to look very hard to find Tina. She was waiting for me at my house, sitting in our living room with my mother and crocheting her pale blue baby blanket. If looks could kill, then Tina and Mom simultaneously obliterated my very existence as I rolled through the door.

Twelve. That was the number of missed calls on my phone. Four were from Tina and eight were from Mom. I knew they both knew where I'd been because I'd been a good son and told Dad about my plans. But neither of them knew why I'd accidentally ignored my phone (the bowling alley _and_ the restaurant were both noisy) or why I'd completely ditched Tina.

"So, looks like even though you aren't physically able to stand up, you stood _me _up without a problem," Tina fired off this line as though she'd been rehearsing it for hours. I looked at Mom, to determine if she was going to allow Tina a free shot at me. I quickly realized that I was fair game, as far as Mom was concerned. My mother crossed her arms and gave me a look that said I might very well be in for another lecture after Tina finished with me.

"I forgot," I said, chewing my thumbnail anxiously. "I'm sorry, okay? But… the truth is that I didn't really want to go with you to Mike's. It isn't my place to be involved with that. But I didn't stand you up _intentionally_. I honestly got distracted and forgot. And I'm sorry."

I'd said twice that I forgot and twice that I was sorry. I watched Tina sigh and fiddle with her crochet needles, apparently out of things to say about my despicable treachery. Mom picked up the laundry basket and the clothes she'd been folding.

"I'll leave you two to talk," she said, hoisting the basket on her hip and thankfully leveling the playing field by leaving the room. There was no way I could simultaneously take on Mom and Tina.

Tina looked at me. "We do need to talk."

I nodded, pushing myself closer to the couch and making the transfer as she continued to crochet the blanket. "You're good at that," I observed, timidly making small talk. "It's nearly ready, isn't it?"

"Well, it ought to be," Tina said, sighing as she rested a hand on top of her bump. "I've read that teen mothers tend to deliver early. And Quinn was early by a month. So, if that's the case, I may have less time than I think." She paused, admiring her work. "I need to something to give him."

I knew what we needed to talk about, and it wasn't the baby blanket. "What did the Changs say about all of this?"

She bit her bottom lip, carefully contemplating the texture of the ceiling. "That they don't want their grandchild living with strangers," she said, her voice straining.

"So, they want you to keep the baby?"

"No…" Tina sighed again, falling back against the couch cushions. I patted her leg and she looked at me quizzically. However angry she might have still been, she didn't turn down my unspoken offer. Her lips curled up slightly as she gladly put her feet in my lap. She wasn't wearing shoes, but I pulled off her socks and tossed them aside. She breathed a sigh of relief this time as my hands went to work massaging her poor, swollen ankles.

"So, what do they want you to do?"

Tina folded her hands across her belly as she leaned her head back and replied, still addressing the ceiling as she spoke. "They want to raise the baby as their own."

I was taken aback. "Really?" I exclaimed. "That's great!"

"Artie, it's… not great," she argued, lifting her head briefly to give me a puzzled look. "It's… weird, that's what it is. It's like they're trying to replace the son they lost. You should have seen Mrs. Chang when I told her it was a boy."

"That's not what they're doing," I countered.

"What makes you say that?" she wanted to know.

"Because…" I had my reasons, but I struggled to articulate it for a moment. I continued rubbing her ankles when she wiggled her feet, indicating for me to keep doing it. "I asked my Mom a question like that once. I said, 'Mom, if I'd died in our accident, would you have wanted more kids?' And you know what? She said yes."

Tina ran her thumb across her belly, appearing thoughtful now. She raised her head up again, and now looked quite curious as she asked, "_Did _you almost die?"

I nodded solemnly. "The paramedics revived me on the scene of the accident," I said, repeating what I'd been told long ago. "They revived me twice."

Tina sucked in a breath at that. "Artie…" she trailed off. "That… that gave me chills. To think of you…"

"I was very lucky," I said, reassuringly. But we were getting off-track. "But seriously, Tina, the Changs taking the baby and raising it as their own sounds like a really good plan. Mike's little sister's just a kid herself so she won't be _that _much older than the baby. And his parents, they look really young…"

"His mom's _thirty-three,_" Tina informed me. My jaw dropped. I knew she looked young, but to me, nearly all Asian adults look younger than their real age. It's some sort of genetic gift.

"Damn, a thirty-three year old grandmother?"

"Yeah," said Tina, shaking her head. "Wendy… Mrs. Chang, I mean, she told me to call her Wendy. Anyway, she was sixteen when she had Mike. Her parents were like Quinn's. They threw her out. But she lived with Mike's father and they stayed together. Four years later, when she was twenty years old, they got married. Mike was the ring bearer in their wedding."

"I… still fail to see the problem with the Changs adopting the baby," I confessed, scrunching up my mouth in confusion.

She closed her eyes. "I'm _so_ selfish," she whispered. "Awhile ago, I decided I wanted to have a closed adoption, meaning I wouldn't have any contact with the baby after he was born. I knew that Quinn had an open adoption with Beth, but it was really hard for her. Like, Quinn visits Beth, but she says it really hurts her to do it."

Tina opened her eyes, gauging my reaction, and I could only gape in confusion. "You don't want him to know his birth mother?" I touched the fabric of her crocheting blanket to make my point. "Yet you're making him this."

"A memento," she explained, fingering the soft woven fabric. "Just a keepsake so that he'd know he had a mother who loved him before he was born and that she will go on loving him even though we're apart. I have a keepsake like this, too, from my birth mother…"

I blinked quickly. _Tina's_ birth mother? The look on my face clearly expressed my surprise. She'd never mentioned that her parents, though also Korean, were not her parents by birth.

"I don't know her, but she gave me a pink blanket," Tina went on. "Yes, Artie, I'm adopted. I don't talk about it because, to be perfectly honest, I don't really think about it much. If my birth mother was in my life, I'm afraid it would just feel like an intrusion…"

I rested my hand on her knee and patted it gently. "But giving the baby to strangers when the Changs are perfectly willing to raise him as their son?" I prodded. "Is that really what's best for him?"

She stroked her belly again. "No," she said, after a moment, shaking her head. "I may not like it, but I know he belongs with Mike's parents, Artie. He _isn't _going to replace Mike for them, but well… maybe he'll bring something new to their lives. And they'll love him like their own…" She closed her eyes as tears streamed down her face.

I squeezed her knee. "I know you love him, too, Tee."

"I didn't know it was possible," she gasped. "To love someone I haven't even met. I want what's best for him, I really do. I just don't like the fact that he's going to know me now and wonder why I was willing to just give him up. I mean, Wendy kept Mike, didn't she? And at great personal cost."

"The two situations don't even compare, Tee."

"I know," she said, quietly. She hastily brushed away her tears and said, by way of ending the discussion. "Well, that's what's happening with that."

I nodded slowly.

"Let's move on," she continued, eyeing me critically. "To what's happening with _you._" She paused. "Michelle, is that her name? I saw you getting in that van with her after school."

My stomach dropped to my knees. "Yeah, Michelle," I said, unable to say anything else. Tina nodded and fell silent. It was an awful silence, being that I couldn't exactly deny what she plainly suspected. The truth was, I'd thought about asking Michelle out. Early on, when I'd started tutoring her regularly, I'd thought about it then.

"Why does her family have an accessible van?"

"Her dad's in a wheelchair."

"Oh."

"Yeah, a car accident, like me."

"I see." Tina absently rubbed a spot and I knew she was getting kicked or poked from the inside again. She jumped up rather abruptly, and explained with one word: "Bathroom."

As I waited for Tina to make a mad dash for the restroom, I thought about my outing with Michelle. Up until I'd realized my mistake in accidentally standing Tina up, it had been a great evening. Michelle was only fourteen, and at first, the age difference kept me from seriously considering Michelle's potential as a girlfriend. But perhaps having a disabled dad made her wise beyond her years. She was easy to talk to, talented on her saxophone, funny and laid-back and pretty…

Tina came back into the living room and my thoughts were interrupted as I took in the sight of her, having never quite gotten used to all the changes. I was having trouble seeing the Tina I'd loved for so long when I looked at her now. I only saw Mike's baby, the imprint of her past that was always with her now.

"I didn't intentionally try to hurt you by going to Mike," she said, sitting gingerly on the couch and looking at me seriously.

"I'm not intentionally trying to hurt you," I told her. "Maybe I won't ask Michelle out. Maybe I will. I don't know what I want to do, this is all really new to me... the idea that I could feel something for someone who isn't you…"

Tina took it all in. "It's… hard to hear that, I won't lie," she said. "But for what it's worth… I still have feelings for you. I know that it's stupid, that too much… has happened…" She looked down at her stomach.

I remained speechless. Wordlessly, I pushed myself up on my hands to kiss her cheek. As I drew back, I could see the look of understanding in her eyes. No matter how hard I tried to tell myself that in ten weeks, we could pretend none of it ever happened, we both knew that was just wishful thinking.

"If things work out with you and Michelle," Tina persisted. "I hope she knows she's lucky to have you."


	14. Date Night

A/N: **Misery Loves Sarah**, consider yourself heard. Thank you for the suggestion. **ARPFics**, if you're reading, I hope you catch the reference to one of my other stories in this. ;) **JustRelax**, do you wear glasses?

* * *

Mercedes was standing in the doorway, slushie in hand, as I rolled myself into Glee rehearsal the next day, already more than five minutes late and probably the last to arrive. I'd come dressed in my trusty purple poncho. She pursed her lips at me and then raised her cup, taking a small sip.

"What are you looking at, Wheels?" she demanded to know. "Can't a girl enjoy a refreshing beverage after school?"

I shrugged. "I guess?"

"What's with the raincoat?"

I sighed. "What did Tina tell you?"

Mercedes looked sincerely puzzled as she responded with, "Nothing…" She glanced at the slushie in her hand before extending it forward as if to threaten me with it. I cowered slightly, holding up my hands. "Why? _What is there to tell?_ Artie, if you hurt that girl, I might have to push you straight into next week."

"We talked, we're cool," I insisted as quickly as I could get the words out. Mercedes wouldn't slushie me right outside of the choir room, would she? "I told her I was going to ask Michelle out. She knows, she's fine with it."

Okay, so I wouldn't go straight to _fine_, but the important point was that Tina _did _know. Anyway, she knew good and well she had no right to control me. I wasn't hers to control anymore.

"You told her you were going to do what?"

The voice behind me told me that I was not, in fact, the last person to make it to the choir room today. I turned to come face to face with Michelle, who strode forward carrying her saxophone. She adjusted her chunky framed glasses on her nose as her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.

Okay, this was not how I planned on asking her out, but I went with it. I tried to pretend that Mercedes wasn't hovering behind me, still armed with that slushie of hers.

"Ask you out," I said again, feigning confidence. Even though my stomach was turning somersaults, on the outside, I managed not to show it. "On a real date this time, I mean. I like your family, but I'd rather just hang out with you."

She giggled in an embarrassed sort of way, but I could see that it wasn't a _bad_ reaction. She just looked surprised, even though I thought I'd made my interest pretty clear over the past several weeks when we'd been working on her math together. I'd do goofy things like steal her pencils or draw cartoons next to the ones she got right.

"I'm flattered, Artie," she said. "I… just have to make sure I can… no, no, you know what?" Michelle apparently changed her mind midsentence. "It's all good. We can go out."

And smiling dutifully at me, she moved past my chair to head into the choir room, excusing herself as Mercedes allowed her to pass. I was left alone, therefore, with the diva in training herself. She shook her head at me, and I could tell that throwing the slushie at me was still in the back of her mind. Saying nothing else, she turned to precede me into the room.

"Okay, guys," Mr. Schuester was saying as I entered and took my place with the Glee club. "First off, I just want to say, I'm proud that we were able to take Sectionals yet again this year…" He had to pause to allow us to hoot and holler for that. "And I want to make Regionals just as good. We're going to go back to having weekly assignments until we find numbers that fit. We've got about three months…"

At this, I stole a glance at Tina. She was seated on the edge of our group, her hand resting on her belly. Unlike Quinn, she was due well before Regionals so there wouldn't be the possibility of another crazy post-Regionals trip to the hospital. But as Mr. Schuester gave us our assignment, songs from the swing era, I began to worry.

I raised my hand. "That sounds like a lot of fast dancing."

Mr. Schuester frowned, obviously thinking I was talking about myself. "Well, we'll work it out, Artie," he assured me. "We always do, right?"

"No, I mean…"

"I'll sit this one out, Mr. Schue," Tina interjected, throwing me a sharp look. I felt as though I'd been slapped. Suddenly, I wasn't allowed to be concerned about the welfare of Tina and her baby?

"Sorry, Tina, I didn't even think about it," said Mr. Schue, looking a tad flustered. I knew he was still handling Tina the way he'd handled Quinn, thinking that if Quinn could dance to funk songs in her eighth month, Tina could swing dance in her seventh.

"It's no trouble," Tina muttered, her face flushing as she realized she'd failed to fade into the background today. It was becoming harder and harder for Tina to do that, to be invisible as had once been her goal.

When practice ended, I made a point to catch up with her. "Hey," I said, rolling up beside her as she picked up her messenger bag. It looked heavy, awfully full of books today. She must have had a lot of homework. I reached out for it and, with a reluctant look, she handed it over. "Sorry, I didn't mean to single you out in front of them."

"It's okay," she said, shrugging. "After my rather dramatic scene at Sectionals, I don't blame you for worrying. But, um…" Tina looked past me, worriedly, and I glanced behind me as Michelle approached, touching my shoulder affectionately.

"I'm free Friday night," she said. "Probably better if we meet up though. Like, at the movies, maybe? There's a bunch of new releases this weekend."

"Great," I replied. "It's a date then."

Michelle smiled, albeit somewhat dubiously as her eyes flickered between Tina and me. I was glad when Michelle then picked up her saxophone, adjusted the backpack she was wearing, and exited the choir room ahead of me.

I looked back at Tina. "_What?"_

Tina said nothing, but just indicated the bag in my lap and pointed at Michelle, who was pushing open the door for herself and struggling to juggle her sax with her own heavy backpack weighing her down.

"It's different, you're pregnant," I argued, pushing my chair as I carried her bag in my lap. She held open the door for me as we left together.

"I was merely thinking that Michelle's pretty tolerant, that's all," Tina replied, with a shrug. "Good luck with your date." A pause, and then: "What's with the raincoat?"

* * *

"What's this place called again?" Michelle asked, as I parked the van in the handicapped space. We were on phase two of our date, having just finished phase one, a movie. "I don't think I've ever been here."

"Guido's Pizzeria," I told her. "You'll like it. It's kind of a fifties style diner with a juke box. And this will sound weird, but you have to order a salad. I normally skip salad, but their dressing is really good."

Michelle got my chair out of the back and reconstructed it for me beside the car in record time. She said she helped her dad do this all the time. I'd only been driving since July so I still tended to make stupid mistakes. I was prompted to tell Michelle the story of how I'd forgotten to set the break on my wheelchair while trying to get out of the car. My chair had rolled all the way down the driveway and into the street.

She giggled. "What did you do?"

"Sat there and thought for a long time at first," I said, laughing now though it hadn't been funny at the time. "Then I realized I was in a van and I could just drive to go get it so that's what I did."

"Clever," she mused. "Dad almost ran over his own chair one time. It was all Mom's fault. He though she'd already put it in the back, but she'd gone to get the mail from the mailbox. Luckily, she screamed loudly enough and he had the window rolled down. Otherwise, the chair might've been a goner!"

We laughed as we exchanged wheelchair horror stories all the way into the diner. After getting ourselves a table and ordering the famous salads with iced teas, the topic shifted from wheelchairs to the latest Glee club assignment.

"I'm really excited about it," she told me. "Big band music means you need just that, a band! I hope it means more instrumental solos. I know that it's a _singing _competition, of course, but the instrumental arrangement is still a large part of the performance."

"Couldn't agree more," I replied. "I'm like, the sole link between the band and the Glee club since I do both. But we should never sell the band short. A lot of our success is credited to you guys."

"Speaking of Glee," she said, indicating something over my shoulder. "I see some of your fellow Glee clubbers now."

I turned to spot Quinn, Hank, Matt, and Tina getting settled at a booth. Lima is small and it isn't uncommon to run into people at the popular places on a Friday night. I just wanted to know why it had to be _them. _To make matters worse, Michelle waved to get their attention.

"Want to join them?" Michelle asked me, eagerly, already rising from her seat. For the first time that evening, I noticed how much _younger_ she could be. She had clearly misunderstood the concept of a date.

"Let's just go say hi," I finally said, after a struggle with myself. It occurred to me that while we were all juniors and seniors, Michelle was just a freshman. I wasn't sure how well she could hold her own.

But Michelle was bold, I had to give her that. "Hey, guys," she said, speaking first as we approached their booth. "So, I guess this is a popular place, huh? I should get out more often. Mind if we sit for a second?"

Our four friends shook their heads, indicating that they didn't mind, and Quinn made room for Michelle to slide in beside her. I was left parking my chair at the end of the booth and remembering why I hate booths. I avoided looking at Tina.

"So, Michelle," Quinn began, conversationally. "How did you and Artie become such good _friends?_" She lingered on the word. I wanted to kill Quinn Fabray. "Band?"

"Actually, he tutors me," Michelle explained, looking slightly in awe of being addressed by name by the great and powerful Quinn. "I'm hopeless in math so my parents pay him twenty dollars a week just to make sure I don't flunk!"

"Aw, that's so nice of Artie to tutor you… for twenty dollars a week," said Quinn, derisively. Michelle, not sensing the malicious intent behind Quinn's teasing, just laughed.

"Yeah, well, maybe now he'll do it for ten," she replied, smiling fondly at me. I returned her expression with a rather weak smile of my own.

"I would think he'd do it free of charge," said Quinn, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Now that you two are going to be dating and everything?"

I thought I saw Michelle's smile falter at that. Noticing that our waiter was coming over to our empty table to take our pizza order, I took that as a perfect reason to leave. After saying goodbye to our friends, Michelle and I excused ourselves and returned to our private table.

"Artie," she said, after we'd ordered the pizza to split. "I have to tell you something…" The last time I'd heard that phrase, it hadn't been good news.

"Tell me what?"

She winced. "I'm not, strictly speaking, _allowed _to date seriously yet," she said. "You _do _mean for this to be a date as friends, right?" When she saw my confused expression, she explained quickly. "I just assumed you meant as friends because that's what we are. Besides, I mean… doesn't Tina kind of have a thing for you still?"

_Tina kind of has another guy's baby, too, _I thought, bitterly. But I didn't say that. Instead, what I said was, "Of course. Just a date as friends."

Michelle looked relieved. It hit me again, how young and naïve she really was. Plus, she wasn't allowed to date, although the fact didn't seem to bother her at all.

Needless to say, my date was a flop.


	15. If Only

A/N: **JustRelax, Artie-Tina-Gleek, Average Everyday Sane Psycho **(Supergoddess), **ARPFics, Misery Loves Sarah, EverlastingMuse, StudyInViolet, **and **Adratrix **- thank you all so much! **Misery Loves Sarah**, I was happy to use your idea in the last chapter and will be happy to consider any idea that someone would like to give me! My story tends to evolve as I write it. **StudyInViolet**, I never let Artie catch a break in my stories, do I?

* * *

The weather began to get warmer as the last of winter's dreary snow finally melted away. Spring was coming. For New Directions, this meant we were getting closer to Regionals. For Tina, this meant she was getting closer to her due date.

Quinn gave Tina her collection of maternity dresses, as I'd known she would, and Tina begrudgingly came to school each day clad in pastel. But true to her gothic roots, she found a way to pair the dresses with clunky jewelry, black combat boots and fingerless striped gloves. On anyone else, this ensemble would've looked ridiculous. On Tina, it looked awesome, even though she was well into her eighth month by now.

Michelle continued to make A's and B's with my help. In a way, I was grateful that she'd taught me to handle rejection with grace. Besides, I had a good thing going with her dad. He didn't need to think that his daughter was the reason I asked those hypothetical questions about sex. Besides, she wasn't.

It was a Friday night and Tina had heartburn so we stayed in at my place. I rubbed her feet while she crocheted the pale blue blanket. If Tina wasn't at my house after school hours, she was with Mercedes or Quinn. She simply explained that her parents were always busy. "Busy on purpose, I'm sure," she muttered, expertly weaving her yarn in its intricate pattern. "Anything to avoid me and the baby."

I wondered about Tina's parents, especially now that I knew they weren't her birth parents. Did their resentment and neglect during her time of need make her wish she knew her birth mother? Was it their attitude that made Tina fearful of adoption in the first place? How awful to think your own parents were avoiding you.

"I still can't believe I never knew you were adopted," I commented.

"It took me asking for you to tell me about the accident," she pointed out, and I nodded thoughtfully. I supposed we'd both been guarded.

"It's too bad, isn't it?"

"What?"

"That I didn't really _know_ you before I tried to date you."

She murmured in agreement. We'd never really talked about what went wrong, but ever since the fiasco that was me trying to date Michelle, I knew it was on our minds. If we'd both been different, maybe things wouldn't be so screwed up right now. I was sorry I'd never really taken the time to find out who she was. And I was sorry she hadn't really known me either.

"Favorite movie?" she asked, and then interrupted before I could say it. "Oh, wait, it's that one you always wanted to watch last year. _Coming Home_, right?"

I frowned. "No, actually, _Orange County."_

She giggled. "Oh, with Jack Black and Collin Hanks? I remember that movie. It's pretty funny. One of those movies you can quote in conversation…"

My eyes lit up at this. "My sister and I always quote it when we call each other," I informed her, feeling slightly giddy that we had something in common and hadn't even realized it. "Like, when I called to tell her I was dating you, Amy said, "'That's great! But I'm going to prison!'"

Tina snickered. "Your sister sounds really funny," she said. "Why have I never met her?"

"She goes to school pretty far away," I said. "All the way in Maine. She doesn't visit very often. She might come home this year for Spring Break, though, which would be great because you could finally meet her…"

Tina sighed, indicating her belly. "Right, when I'm nine months pregnant, the perfect time to meet your sister..." She trailed off, looking as though she hadn't meant to talk about the baby and didn't want to stay on that subject.

"Favorite movie?"

"Oh, easy," she replied, quickly. "_You've Got Mail. _With the elder Hanks. And Meg Ryan, I think Meg Ryan's just so cute in that."

"I would have guessed _Twilight."_

Tina snorted. "Pfft, no way," she said, putting up her feet. Instinctively, I removed one sock and then the other to give her my usual massage. "I haven't ever seen any of the movies _or_ read the books. _My _kind of vampires are the classic ones, like Dracula."

"Yeah, Edward Cullen doesn't even have a coffin," I quipped, and when Tina shot me a bewildered look, I hurried to explain myself. "I only know because of Amy, I swear. She's a… what do they call themselves… a Twi-hard."

Tina wrinkled her nose. "And to think, I thought she had good taste because she likes 'Orange County.'" I laughed at that as she rolled her eyes in disgust.

"What do you fear the most?" I asked, continuing our question volley.

"Labor," she replied, without missing a beat. She then made a face at her own response. "Sorry, I have a bit of a one track mind these days. Before that, it was spiders. And when Matt missed school because one got stuck in his ear at night, I couldn't sleep for almost a week. Stop laughing…"

"Sorry," I replied, trying to contain myself, but failing. She shook her head, but laughed right along with me in spite of herself. I thought back to Santana's announcement in the middle of rehearsal and Matt's ultimate return to school. "Remember when Mike and Puck threw those fake spiders at him?"

That remark caused Tina's laughter to taper off and cease. Realizing my mistake, I cringed slightly and muttered an apology. She shrugged it off, but I could tell it still bothered her to talk about him. She had to be thinking about him all the time now. No matter what she did, a constant reminder of Mike was there, right under her shirt.

"Most embarrassing moment," she asked, swiftly moving on to a new question to fill the awkward silence.

"Uhm…" It was my turn to feel awkward, however, but I felt I ought to be honest. Even now, years later, it was difficult to talk about. "Probably wetting my pants in fourth grade," I admitted.

Tina reddened slightly. "Oh…" she couldn't help but look sympathetic. "Did you, um, have problems with that after the accident?"

"At first, yeah," I replied, matter-of-factly. "I was still getting used to all the changes. It happened in the middle of class. The worst part was not even realizing until my classmates had already noticed, and my teacher was writing me a pass to see the nurse. I didn't quite have my bowel management program figured out yet."

"Your what?"

"Nothing."

Tina realized at the same time I did that there were still _some_ things that were better kept private. She didn't question me anymore and spared me the agony of an awkward silence by moving the conversation along and telling me _her _most embarrassing moment. She'd thrown up on the teacher's desk in fifth grade. Thankfully, she was able to change schools shortly thereafter.

"You want to watch a movie?" I asked, after learning a few more facts about Tina and feeling very well versed in the subject of my ex-girlfriend and current best friend.

"I'm supposed to watch something for childbirth class," she said, bringing up the baby for the third time that night. Again, I could understand how it was hard not to. She sighed. "But I doubt _you_ want to watch a real birth. I don't particularly want to watch one either…"

"I was thinking of maybe _You've Got Mail_," I suggested, grinning slyly at her. "We own that, I know we do. Amy and Mom love it. I think it's some kind of rule that all women love that movie."

"It _is _the ultimate chick flick," Tina agreed, eyeing me suspiciously as I continued kneading her feet and ankles. "You'd watch that with me?"

"I can appreciate the cinematography in just about any movie," I told her, and I wasn't lying. If I didn't really care for the plot or had seen the movie too many times to count, I could always study some aspect of the filming process for future reference, just in case I really did wind up with a career in the film-making industry someday.

And thus, we ended up watching Tina's favorite movie. She quoted nearly every line as I stole glances at her every few minutes, pleased to see that she was enjoying herself. As we watched, I tried to crochet a square of fabric like she'd shown me a couple of weeks ago and ended up making a mess out of it. I was no match for Tina's newly acquired skill and the beautiful blanket she'd almost finished creating.

"I was just thinking," I said, when we'd paused the movie to allow Tina to get up and run to the bathroom, having been struck with the immediate urge to pee. She was coming back into the room as I spoke, supporting her heavy stomach with her hand and sort of waddling, too.

"Thinking what?" she asked, sitting carefully beside me.

"Well," I began, looking at her seriously as I echoed the words just spoken by Tom Hanks. "If I hadn't been Fox Books and you hadn't been The Shop Around the Corner, and you and I had just… met..."

"'I know,'" she quoted back, smiling.

"'I would have asked for your number,'" I said. "And… and I can't remember the rest. Something, something… 'For as long as we both shall live.'"

"If only…" Her words came out in a sigh as she spoke them, a hand falling to rest on atop belly, which was almost like a shelf. I edged closer to her on the couch and she rested her head on my shoulder. Still speaking through a sigh, she asked me the question I'd already been thinking. "Artie, what happened to us?"

I bit my lip. "I didn't really know you."

"I didn't really know _you_."

"And I couldn't understand what it was you needed from me," I went on, stroking her hair as she leaned against me. "Because giving you what you needed meant knowing everything about you."

"I could have been more honest."

"And I could have been more sensitive."

She took her head off my shoulder and tilted it upwards to look at me. Before I could think or reason, I wrapped an arm around what was once her waist. Tina was getting closer and I wasn't backing off. In three seconds, we'd be kissing each other. I closed my eyes, my breath catching in my throat. _Three… two… one…_

It would have been a perfect kiss, complete with a dog named Brinkley barking in the background and the sound of _Somewhere Over the Rainbow _being played in the middle of a garden. And then something rippled across my hand, causing me to jerk back in surprise.

"It's just the baby moving," Tina murmured, leaning in to kiss me deeper. But I couldn't enjoy it any more as the baby continued to create a strange ripple just under the surface of Tina's skin. She felt me pull back and her eyes fluttered open.

"I… I'm sorry," I fumbled, feeling awful. But all I could think of was Mike sitting in my place, kissing Tina and feeling his own baby move, had he still been alive today. An image of Tina and Mike keeping their baby and living happily ever after, supported by his happily married parents who had survived the same ordeal, filled my mind.

I could see the hurt in her eyes and it killed me. "And you and I would have never been at war," she continued quoting. "'And the only thing we'd fight about would be which video to rent on a Saturday night.'"

I knew the next line. "'Well, who fights about that?'"

"'Well, some people. Not us.'"

"We would never."

She sighed, brushing my cheek with her thumb. "'If only…'"


	16. Mood Swingin'

A/N: A reader named Charity sent me an excellent suggestion that I think I will use in the next chapter. Thanks, Charity! Thank you all for your lovely reviews. They really drive my writing.

* * *

That statistic about teen mothers delivering early didn't apply to Tina. She finished out month eight and moved right into month nine, gaining more weight and visiting her doctor on a weekly basis now. According to the doctor, baby Chang was quite content to stay put for awhile longer. In week thirty-six, Tina became a cleaning machine. She scrubbed and disinfected our kitchen on impulse, prompting my mother to pay her for doing such a good job. Somewhere between weeks thirty-seven and thirty-eight, I found out Tina wasn't getting any sleep at night because she was so uncomfortable. Consequently, week thirty-nine brought on major mood swings.

Tina was crying and I was sitting, dumbfounded, wondering what I'd done. To make matters worse, we were in the middle of the hallway at school, attracting even more attention than usual. We got double the stares these days, what with being who we were, a kid in a wheelchair and a very pregnant teenage girl. The pregnant girl crying her eyes out only made matters worse…

"It's not that I _don't_ want to, Tee," I told her, reaching up to take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. "It's just that I'm afraid _you'll _regret it. Don't you think you'd rather have Quinn or Mercedes there?"

"Just say you don't want to," she shot back, jerking her hand away and crossing her arms protectively over her body. "And _no,_ I don't want Quinn or Mercedes or my mom or _Mike's_ mom… just _you._ But if you don't want to be there, then forget it. I'll do this by myself."

With that, she stalked off in the opposite direction, moving alarmingly quickly given her condition. I remained frozen on the spot, wondering what I'd said wrong when I hadn't really said _anything_. To recap, Tina had approached me that morning to say she wanted me in the delivery room with her when the baby came. I'd asked for time to think, and when I hadn't given her an answer by lunch, she totally freaked out and jumped my case.

A locked slammed behind me and I jumped, turning to see that it was just Rachel. At least I could be certain that Rachel, being the most slushied person at McKinley High School, wouldn't turn the cup on me. She rolled her eyes and said, "Honestly, Artie, can't you go a day without making her cry?"

"She's always crying!" I exclaimed, in protest. It was true. The closer we came to D-day, the more hormonal Tina became. And there was, of course, the lack of sleep to contend with.

"You should be honored that she wants you in the delivery room," Rachel went on, ignoring my complaint. "Besides, you can stay beside her head the whole time. It doesn't have to be gross."

"Rachel's right, Artie," said another voice. This time, it was Quinn, the last person one would expect to agree with Rachel. I did a quick check of her hands and was relieved to see that she was unarmed. She smirked down at me, putting her hands on her hips. "I asked Mercedes because she'd been my rock. If Tina's asking you, it's because you've been a solid source of support and comfort."

"I don't know how," I replied, plainly. "It's been tough for me, going through this with her."

"'_Going through this with her?_'" Quinn echoed my words, throwing me a contemptuous look. "Gee, Artie, does _your_ back hurt? Are _your _feet swollen? Are _you_ carrying a load of thirty extra pounds with you? Are _you_ losing control of your bladder during inopportune times?"

I blinked in horror. I didn't dare say what I was thinking, which was that I could sometimes relate to a couple of the things she'd just listed, but simply shook my head.

Quinn smirked. "Yeah, I thought so." She gave an exasperated sigh, as if I were the stupidest person on the planet. "Look, if she wants you there and you care about her _at all_, you'll be there. But if I were you, I'd go to one of her doctor's appointments first. You'll want to know what you're in for. You're welcome."

"Thanks?" I replied.

This was met with another I-can't-believe-you're-this-stupid look, accompanied by an eye roll from Rachel, who was somehow siding with Quinn on the issue. I guessed the whole female population would probably agree with them, too.

"She's due next week, isn't she?" Rachel asked Quinn, who nodded and turned to me, opening her mouth to tell me something else, as if she hadn't said enough already.

"You only have to be her rock for a little while longer," she told me. "Then you can go back to being a complete idiot."

"Also, give her this, will you?" Rachel interjected, leaning forward to hand me two gaudy, hot pink invitations with kisses all over them. In the middle of each invitation was a picture of Mercedes wearing a tiara. The invitations read: "Mercedes is turning Sweet Seventeen!" Underneath that were the specifications for a party.

"Mercedes' parents are throwing her a big party at the country club they belong to, and we're in charge of handing out invitations and getting RSVP's," Quinn explained. "Make sure Tina comes. She's been a hermit lately, not that I blame her, but it would really mean a lot to Mercedes if she were there." She looked down her nose at me. "And you can come, too."

Rachel explained the reason behind a "sweet seventeen" party before I could ask. "If you'll recall," she said, sweetly. "Last year, the grandmother who'd lived with Mercedes and her family passed away. They had to call off her Sweet Sixteen. This is to make up for it."

"Make _sure_ Tina comes," Quinn said again. She gave my chair handles a push in the direction I was headed for good measure. I glanced over my shoulder to scowl at her, but she outdid me in the scowling department. _Women, _I thought. I wished I'd had Finn and Puck in my corner.

Tina had made it to our next class ahead of me, and I was happy to see that she'd dried her eyes. As I pulled my chair in under my desk in front of hers, she tapped my shoulder to get me to turn around. Tina was turned sideways in her own desk, having gotten too big to sit facing forward. Someone needed to get her a desk without a chair attached, like the one they had for me.

"I'm sorry," she said, beating me to the punch with an apology as usual. "It's just that I'm ready for this to be over, but at the same time, I'm nervous. I didn't mean to take it out on you. If you don't want to be there or you need more time to think, I understand…"

"No, _I'm _sorry," I said, quickly, taking her hand. "I do want to be there. Quinn just saw me in the hall and suggested I go to a doctor's appointment with you first so that I'll know what to expect."

"I have one on Monday of next week," she told me. "You're welcome to come. I hope it's my last appointment. I really don't know how much more I can take."

"Great," I told her, trying my best to sound cheerful about it.

"The Changs have everything ready for the baby," she went on, her tone sounding almost excited for a change. "They painted his room and decorated everything in trains. Mike just loved trains when he was little and his mother is convinced that this baby will, too. Here, look, want to see a picture?"

I said I did and Tina handed over her phone to show me the pictures she'd taken. Sure enough, the pale blue room looked ready, complete with a changing table, dresser, and crib, as well as pictures of trains on the walls and blue checkered curtains in the windows.

"All that's left is putting his name above his crib," she continued, studying the picture I'd just been looking at. "Which is complicated, since his parents decided they want me to name him…"

"Then you'd better get some name books," I said, smiling at her.

She nodded, looking overwhelmed at being charged with such a task as naming an actual person. Her hand grazed her belly like it always did when she had the baby on the mind. Or when she was being kicked. Her eyes then drifted to the pink cards in my hand.

I handed her one of the invitations and she looked at it with interest as I explained. "We're invited to a birthday party for Mercedes this Friday night. It's kind of fancy, at this nice country club. Quinn says Mercedes really wants you to come."

I added the last part because Tina had already recoiled at the mention of a social function. "Mercedes will probably invite the Cheerios," she muttered. "She's so popular now. All those people, I don't know…"

"We can stick together," I urged. "Come on, it'll be fun. You need to get out and socialize. It'll be good for you."

"What if my water breaks?" she fretted. "I'd hate to go into labor in front of a bunch of people. Of course, that could happen at school, too. Ideally, it needs to happen over Spring Break…"

"Well, speaking as someone who wet his pants at the age of nine, it isn't the end of the world," I told her, spotting Jacob Ben Israel reacting to what I'd just said, evidently eavesdropping to scope out the news on Wheels and Goth Bump. Not caring, I ignored him.

"I have nothing to wear," she went on, pouting slightly as she looked at her expanded midsection. Indeed, the dress she wore at present was snug across her belly. "I'd hate to buy something this late."

"I'll buy you something," I offered, grinning at her. "I now make thirty dollars per session when I tutor because I'm helping Michelle's little brother with his math, too."

Tina smiled softly, momentarily distracted from her troubles. "That's awesome," she told me.

"Her brother is ten," I continued. "He was born two years after her dad's accident. Her dad's exactly like me, same injury level and everything…" _And he fathered a child anyway, _was what I was indirectly telling her. This way, it wasn't as blunt as telling her that I still had the use of my penis, but I got the point across.

"I'm really glad you met someone else like you, Artie," she said. Now that Michelle was no longer a threat, I could tell that she meant it. "But, listen, you don't need to buy me clothes with the money they're paying you. Especially not something I'll only be able to wear once or twice. But I'm glad you're getting paid. I bet you need it for gas."

"Yeah, I have to fill up when I drive," I said. "Speaking of which, since we never go anywhere, you've never gotten to ride with me and see me use my hand controls. I can pick you up for the party and drive us both there."

"That would be great," Tina agreed. "I can barely fit behind the wheel of my car. Mom's been dropping me off at school for the past month."

"It's a date," I said, brightly. I was going to say more, but the tardy bell cut me off. I smiled fondly at her before facing forward in my chair again.


	17. Date Night Redux

A/N: Longest chapter yet! And the quickest update. I know I didn't give you guys much time to review, but that's fine with me. Currently, there's even more saved on my computer. I'm contemplating several different plans for the next chapter, however, so please let me know what you'd like to see.

* * *

"Hello?" Thank goodness for hands-free phones. I needed both hands to drive my parent's van. I used one hand to steer and the other controlled both the breaks and the acceleration. I couldn't wait for Tina to ride with me and see me drive. I'd been waiting all week for this party, excited to have something that felt like a real date. Okay, so we were still just friends, but friends could go on dates, right?

"Artie, I almost forgot to tell you," she said, as soon as I picked up. "I'm not at my house right now. As a matter of fact, no one is. I'm at Mike's parents' house. His mom had a maternity dress for me and helped me get ready."

I tried my best not to react to the surprise. Going there meant I might have to end up seeing the dead ex-boyfriend's parents. That definitely wasn't in my plans for date night. _It's not about me, _I chanted in my mind. _It's not about me._

"Oh, okay, what's his address?"

After Tina had given me the address and directions, I turned around and headed the right way. It had been a long time since I'd been to Mike Chang's house, and the one time I'd gone, I hadn't been the one driving. I hoped I looked good enough for the party. I was wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt with my red bow tie and red suspenders, something slightly nicer than what I'd wear to school. Red would probably clash with all the pink decorations, but who cared?

No matter how much trouble it was to meet Tina at the door, I would _not_ simply honk the horn as I pulled up. I went through the usual motions of sliding my seat back, grabbing the pieces of the wheelchair from the passenger seat, and pulling them across my body. Once I had successfully assembled the chair beside the van, it was time for me to get out. Getting out was trickier than getting in, but I'd had a lot of practice transferring in and out of my vehicle in physiotherapy last summer. Only when I was back in my chair did I realize I had an audience. Tina, Mike's parents and Mike's little sister were hanging out on the front porch.

"Pretty impressive," said Tina, stepping forward and allowing me to get a good look at her. She was wearing a long, flowing purple dress that stopped at mid-calf. The dress was cut in a deep V and it showed off more cleavage than I'd ever expected to see from Tina. Her hair was put up, secured in place with chopsticks. There was purple stuff on her eyelids, matching the purple in her hair.

"You look amazing," I said, breathlessly, rolling myself forward even though I wouldn't be able to go much further. There were stairs all the way up to the house. When I'd been to Mike's the last time, I'd entered and left through the garage. Tina smiled at me and descended the steps carefully, maintaining her balance with effort. I held out the small bouquet of flowers I'd brought. It wasn't much, just a tiny arrangement from the grocery store, but I could see by her face that I'd done something right.

"Picture time," announced Wendy Chang, coming down the steps behind Tina. She really _did_ look young, almost like she could be the same age as my older sister. I caught sight of her husband following behind her and was startled by how much he resembled Mike.

You might think Mike's parents snapping a picture of me and Tina as if it were prom night was a little weird, and I totally agreed. Wendy posed us for the picture so that Tina was behind my chair now, one hand resting on my shoulder and the other holding the bouquet I'd brought. The classic prom pose was pretty much out of the question, unless I found some crutches and did my not-so-impressive balancing act. We smiled like Cheshire cats.

"Miss Tina, you look just like Cinderella," said the little sister whose name I couldn't remember as she scurried down the steps. I'd never been able to forget her face when I'd seen her at the hospital.

Tina smiled at her, stepping out from behind me to lean down and give the little girl a hug. "Why, thanks, Miss Mia," she said, as Mia threw her arms around Tina. _Click, click, click_, went Wendy's camera as I hung back and looked on. Tina straightened up gingerly, her hand going to her back as she did so.

"I'll put those in some water until you get back," said Wendy, approaching to take the bouquet. As she did this, she leaned in to say something softly to Tina that I couldn't hear. Tina vehemently shook her head and I could hear her telling Mrs. Chang that she was fine. I began wringing my hands nervously. I didn't know what I'd do if the baby came tonight. I hadn't even been to the doctor with Tina yet. I wasn't ready for that.

When we were finally done taking pictures (Wendy insisted that Tina pose for a few by herself), we headed back to my van. Tina hung back and watched as I grabbed a hold of the steering wheel and the driver's seat to pull myself up. Once I was in, I arranged my feet and looked back to see that Tina was about to disassemble the chair.

"No, no," I said, before she could take the wheels off. "The whole chair will fit in the back. I just have to take it apart when it rides up front with me."

She nodded, straightening up again with that pained look. I swallowed hard and watched her in the rear view mirror as she pushed my chair in the back, wishing adamantly that I could have helped. Luckily, Mr. Chang hadn't gone inside yet. He hurried over to help her lift my chair, and then came around to open the door for her and help her inside.

"We can call someone to help again when we get there," I said, eyeing her nervously. "I don't want you lifting heavy stuff."

Tina blew a loose tendril of hair in frustration. "Artie, your chair weighs next to nothing," she argued. "I'm _fine_. I just wish people would leave me alone and stop reminding me every two seconds how I'm a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode."

"Sorry," I said, putting my key in the ignition and turning on the van. "If it helps, I kind of know the feeling. Sometimes it gets old, having people remind me about the chair all the time."

To my surprise, she smiled. "I never really thought about it before," she mused. "I guess you _do _understand, don't you?" I nodded. "Not the ticking time bomb, thing, I guess, but the constant reminders that something's different about you…"

"It'll all be over soon." _Now you get to be normal. And I'm going to be stuck in this chair for the rest of my life. _Where did that come from? I was pretty sure I didn't outwardly resent Tina for complaining about a temporary condition while I lived with a permanent one. And yet, those thoughts just crept in without warning.

"Yeah." She folded her hands across her non-existent lap and leaned over slightly to examine my hand control, grinning. "Artie, this is too cool. You're actually driving. I can't believe I haven't seen you do this until now."

I was proud to display what I'd learned. As we rode, I noticed Tina glancing at my idle feet, but if she was anxious riding with a person who drove without the use of their legs, she didn't let on. Driving with just my hands came naturally to me since I'd never driven any other way.

The small parking lot was full when we got there, but naturally, I had an empty, van accessible space reserved for me. Tonight, I was glad for Tina's sake, not my own. Before I could stop her and say we'd call a friend to come out, she shimmied out of the van and went around back to unload my chair. I consoled myself with the thought that at least it didn't actually weigh all that much. I stopped short of nagging her for it, remembering that she didn't want to be reminded of her condition for one night.

Once I was in my chair, Tina got behind and attempted to push me again. "Save your energy for dancing," I told her, thinking that I was being pretty reasonable. To my relief, she listened and opted to walk beside me instead.

As Tina had suspected, Mercedes' party was full of people from school, Cheerios included. They were a bit harder to pick out in the crowd tonight. Many of them had their hair down, for a change, and they weren't wearing uniforms. I also recognized Mercedes' parents, her two older brothers, and some older kids that must've been her brothers' friends. The party looked a lot like a prom, complete with an area where you could take pictures and a DJ.

"Tina, Artie!" Mercedes spotted us and tore herself away from a crowd of football players and Cheerios to rush over. The diva-in-training looked pretty spectacular tonight in a strapless silver dress with black tulle and black stiletto heels. She hugged Tina first, and then leaned over to hug me.

"Hot dress, little mama!" she gushed, giving Tina's belly a pat. I could see Tina trying not to look annoyed at this as she smiled and thanked Mercedes, complimenting her dress in return. Mercedes did a little twirl, sweeping her hands over her body.

"Just something I had lying around," she said. "Cute bowtie, Artie."

"Just something I had lying around," I replied, grinning.

The new Katy Perry song began to play and a swarm of girls ran to the middle of the floor, screeching with excitement. Santana and Brittany ran over to tug Mercedes out on the dance floor. Quinn hurried up to Tina, pulling gently on her arm. "Come dance with us, Tina!"

I was about to open my mouth and remind Quinn that she, of all people, should understand that Tina wouldn't feel up to dancing. But to my surprise, Tina giggled and agreed. In awe, I watched her move to the middle of the floor with the other girls. She was no match for Brittany or Santana, but she moved along with the beat, smiling and having a good time. I lingered on the side, watching with all the other guys, except for Kurt who joined right in with the ladies.

"If guys dance in a group like that, it looks gay," said Puck, hovering near my chair. "But when girls do it, it's pretty hot..." He clapped me on the shoulder twice. "Hey, Wheels, you hanging in there?"

I glanced up. "Yeah, why?"

"Oh, nothing really," he said. "I just remember what it was like, waiting for Quinn to have my kid. 'Course everyone was just thinking 'bout her, no one really cared what was going on with me."

I lifted a brow, noting that this was more sensitivity than I typically expected from Puck. But over time, Puck had shown his ability to be surprisingly in tune with his feelings while simultaneously tossing nerds in dumpsters without an inkling of remorse.

"I'm okay," I said. "Thanks for asking."

"Just remember, if she bitches at you for sexting with other girls, it's just the hormones talking. You didn't do anything wrong. Pregnant chicks, they're always gonna go crazy on you."

He left me to ponder this little gem of advice while I continued to watch the girls. The song ended, immediately followed by the latest Lady Gaga song. Kurt led the girls in a dance and they all copied his moves, but Tina chose to leave the dance floor. She came back to me, flushed and out of breath. "It's so hot," she complained.

"It's cooler outside," I told her, licking my lips nervously. It was hard not to think of a ticking time bomb as she clutched her abdomen like that. I said nothing, however, as she followed me to get some water from the refreshment table. Once I'd watched her down two cups, we headed outside to enjoy the breeze.

"Much better," she said, her hands falling down to her side now. Outside was beautiful, complete with a blooming garden and a fountain next to a little gazebo all decorated with lights. Tina smoothed her skirt down as I admired her beautiful silhouette against the backdrop of the moon. Was it so wrong that part of me wished that was my baby she was carrying now? It was, albeit, a very foolish part that wished this since I had no desire to be a seventeen-year-old dad.

"S-sit on my lap," I suggested. She shook her head, which caused me to pat my lap resolutely. She sighed, but finally nodded and eased her body down on my lifeless legs.

"I'm going to give you pressure sores," she worried, watching as I naturally had no reaction to the added weight against my lower half.

"Now, look," I admonished her. "I don't need reminders of my condition either. Beside, you sitting on me for a few minutes is not going to do that. Come on, Tina, just for tonight, let's not be Wheels and Preggers. Let's just be us."

She smiled softly and allowed me to wrap my arms around her, belly and all. For now, she was just Tina. There was no baby. I was just Artie. There was no wheelchair. I could make the barriers vanish. I could kiss her for real this time. And I did.

When our lips parted, I could hear her sighing with relief. The weight of our troubles lifted for just that moment, surrounded by twinkling lights and cool, sweet smelling breezes. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."


	18. A Late Night Adventure

A/N: I hate it when this site doesn't put my story at the top of the page after I've updated. It seems like that happens a lot. Here's hoping that it won't and that, if it does, you'll still find me. I'm on a roll and don't wish to stop writing. Stay tuned!

* * *

When it comes to visiting the doctor myself, there's nothing I like doing less. I hate everything from sitting in the waiting room to be examined, which always feels like being a lab rat. Luckily for me, my condition hasn't changed much in many years, enabling me only to visit the doctor annually or if I'm having issues.

Tina's doctor visit was going to be different. She was hoping for news of progress, as she was now beginning week forty, where most of the baby books and websites stopped counting. Occasionally, one would go on to week forty-one or forty-two, but Tina never read those chapters, insisting that this would never happen to her.

"Tina Cohen-Chang?" The nurse finally called her back and she shot me an anxious look, rising carefully from her chair. I had hoped, for a second, that she was going to change her mind about having me along for the ride. But her mind appeared made up. I wheeled myself along behind her, drawing a few curious looks as I went.

Tina stepped on the scale first, closing her eyes. Unfortunately for Tina, the nurse didn't seem to know that Tina didn't want to hear it and read the number aloud before writing it on a clipboard. Tina now weighed considerably more than me, not that I would _dare_ to point it out.

Today, we couldn't help but concentrate on the baby, the reason we were here. I waited in the corner while the nurse took Tina's blood pressure and then had her to lie down as she checked the baby's heartbeart. I shrank back into the corner, slightly embarrassed to be seeing her bare stomach. I really had no choice but to get over it, though, because it only got worse. The doctor came in next to do an internal exam and see if she was dilated. I studied the posters on the wall and then noticed a bulletin board covered in pictures of babies. Most of the newborns were pretty ugly.

The sonogram, however, was interesting. It seemed safe to look, even though Tina's bare stomach was still exposed. The doctor commented that the baby was in the right position, facing down and ready to "head out," and what an awful pun that was. However, Tina was just a centimeter dilated and hadn't made any progress since her _last _appointment.

"If you haven't had the baby by next Monday, Tina," said her doctor, a short Asian man with wispy white hair. "We'll schedule you to be induced the following Friday. In the meantime, do some walking, drink plenty of fluids and make sure you've got your bags ready!"

I could tell that he meant for the last part to be encouraging. Tina held herself together as she interacted with her doctor, but as soon as he stepped out of the door, she burst into tears. I wheeled myself forward and stroked her hand, gently. "Hey, Tee, it's okay…"

"I don't want to wait until next Friday!" she wailed.

I couldn't do anything except take her back to my house and wait for her to calm down. I could tell that if the baby didn't come this week, it would undoubtedly be one of the worst Spring Breaks we'd ever endured. She immediately wanted to go for a walk around the block when we got home, following the doctor's orders. Half a mile later, she was just tired and in pain, but not in labor.

She stayed at my house and we spent the evening flipping through baby name books, looking for something that went well with his middle name, which was going to be Michael. As evening fell, we still didn't have any ideas that Tina liked and she was getting tired of names. Plus, she looked sleepy.

"At least my parents don't get to bug me all night," she murmured, her eyes closed as she stretched out, feet in my lap. "Since they're not home, thank God."

It was getting late so I asked, "Where are they?"

"Out of town on business," she replied, nonchalantly.

I sat up straighter, alarmed at the news. "_Now?_" I exclaimed, incredulously. I knew Tina's parents were kind of shitty, but really? "Why would they leave you alone so close to your due date?"

"My neighbors are on call," she told me, with a yawn. "Okay?"

"No," I said, firmly. "Not okay." I hated the idea of Tina being home alone right now. What if there was an emergency and the neighbors couldn't get to her in time? Or she could fall and not be able to get to a phone. "You're staying with us."

I knew Mom and Dad would be okay with this, and that it was a better idea that Tina being alone. Besides, since Amy had gone on a vacation instead of coming home for the break from school, I pointed out that Tina could use her room. After getting Tina to agree to the idea, I got my parents onboard as well. We went back to her empty house to get the suitcase she'd packed for the hospital, in addition to another bag with more clothes. Finally, Mom called Tina's mother to make sure it was okay. When she got off the phone with Tina's mom, she shot me a weary look. Since we were alone in the kitchen while Dad carried Tina's things to Amy's room, Mom spoke her mind. "What _was _her mother thinking?" she asked me, rhetorically. "There's no way I'd leave my daughter to fend for herself at a time like this."

I didn't know, but it hurt me to think about it. I went back into the living room to find Tina attempting to play Dance Dance Revolution. She spun around at the sound of me laughing and turned a deep shade of red. "I'm going to dance this baby out if I have to," she told me.

Not knowing what to say to that, I simply eased myself onto the ground to play with her, using my hands to trick the game into thinking I was dancing. Tina and I played until she was completely out of breath again and my hands were hurting from slapping the floor.

"Time for bed," I announced, since it was nearly two in the morning. She pouted slightly, but nodded in agreement. It was tempting to stay up late when we didn't have school the next day, but I didn't want to sleep all day either.

I left her to take a shower and get ready for bed myself, a process that still takes a long time, even years after the accident. Once I was finally ready, I went to check on Tina. She was already sound asleep, curled up in Amy's bed with several pillows surrounding her body and the covers pushed off. I didn't want to risk disturbing a rare moment of peaceful slumber so I rolled back out of the room and back to my own room as quietly as I could.

Hours later, something woke me up. My eyes fluttered open as Tina shook me gently by the shoulder. I looked at her in confusion for a second before jolting up in bed. "The baby?"

She just nodded, her eyes wide and scared as she clutched her belly. I grabbed for my chair and nearly fell trying to get into it. Tina hung back as I transferred out of bed, clutching her stomach with a look of intense concentration etched across her face. She wasn't hunched over and moaning in pain, however, so I figured it wasn't quite the emergency I'd initially thought.

As we woke up my parents, collected her suitcase, and headed out to the van, Tina remained just as quiet and concentrated as she'd been in my room. I rolled my chair up the ramp and Mom helped Tina into the front seat. Only then did Tina finally wince in pain and hunch over, clutching her belly. I felt helpless as I watched her begin to struggle through a contraction, but just as quickly as it began, it apparently stopped. Tina straightened back up again, drawing in a deep breath and looking over her shoulder at me. Saying nothing, she faced forward again and settled back into the seat. I watched and waited, but nothing else happened on the way to the hospital.

Once we were in the waiting room, Mom filled out some of the paperwork while Tina anxiously paced the hall, still strangely hushed and focused. After several minutes, they finally took her back into one of the rooms. Since I couldn't pace myself, I moved my wheels back and forth repeatedly just to keep my hands busy.

After what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes, Tina returned, a glum look on her face. "I'm not in labor," she reported, looking both depressed and relieved. "They just said for us to go home and keep waiting. This sucks."

It did suck. Plus, it was the middle of the night and Mom had to go to work the next day. I had a feeling Tina and I would be sleeping in afterall. When we got home, she went straight back to bed without really talking to Mom or myself.

"She'll be okay," Mom assured me, leaning down to kiss my forehead before going back to bed herself. I stopped her from leaving. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I'm really freaked out," I confessed. "Maybe… if Tina will let you, maybe you could be in there when she has the baby? If her own mom isn't going to be around, well, she really needs to have someone there who's done this before."

"Twice," Mom replied, automatically.

I shook my head. "What would _ever_ possess you to do this twice?" Questioning this was questioning my very existence, but I didn't care.

She laughed gently at that. "Oh, after the baby comes, you forget all about the pain," she told me. "I didn't believe it until I experienced it for myself, but it's true."

I could see a problem here. "But Tina isn't keeping her baby," I reasoned, frowning slightly. "So it will be different for her."

For this, Mom didn't have an answer. She simply told me that she was sure Tina would be happy about the baby, even if the baby wasn't going to be hers. As I headed back to bed, I knew I wouldn't be getting any sleep myself. I was going to be up all night long, worrying about Tina and the upcoming event. I had to do all my worrying alone, behind the safety of my bedroom door, because Tina didn't need to know I was so panicked. I was supposed to be her rock.

* * *

I intended the following day to be quiet and uneventful, but it was not.

"Glee clubbers to the rescue!" said Quinn, letting herself in the front door, followed by Mercedes, Kurt, Matt, Finn, Rachel and Puck. My eyes bulged out as they filed into the middle of my living room. I'd called Quinn to ask if she could bring Mercedes over and help distract Tina. I had said nothing about bringing half of the Glee club.

"Well, just those of us who aren't on vacation," added Mercedes, taking the seat on the couch next to a bewildered looking Tina. Tina was wearing sweatpants and a huge t-shirt, her eyes tired and her hair in messy pigtails. I judged that she didn't appreciate the presence of all the guys in Glee right now.

"We heard about the false alarm and figured you could use some company," added Kurt, scrutinizing my house with a look that plainly told me he was mentally redecorating. Most of the people now standing in my living room had never been to my house.

Rachel produced a DVD. "We're going to watch Regionals from last year!" she announced. "Most of you were too busy to stay and see Vocal Adrenaline perform, which was a real shame…"

"Sorry if my _water breaking _inconvenienced you." Quinn sneered, her voice full of venom. I saw Tina blanch at this.

"I figured we could watch and analyze their strategy," Rachel went on, as if she hadn't been interrupted. Did you know that most of the kids were seniors like Jesse? The team's a lot smaller this year…"

Leave it to Rachel to focus on Glee club at a time like this. However, much to my surprise, Tina was the first to agree to this idea. I went to pop some popcorn and we spent the afternoon discussing strategies. Tina, who knew she'd be back by then, was eager to focus on this instead of her current predicament.

I, however, couldn't stop thinking about it. The bomb was ticking.


	19. Thank You, Dave Karofsky

A/N: **JustRelax, **you caught a continuity problem! I hope I've fixed it. :) Thanks for the reviews, guys! It's especially sweet that **JustRelax **abd **Misery Loves Sarah** reviewed all three of the chapters, in spite of my rapid fire posting. **Misery Loves Sarah**, as someone who hasn't personally experience what Tina's going through, it intimidates me that YOU have! I hope I do the next chapter or two justice. ;)

* * *

Operation Distract Tina was working. Thanks to the Glee clubbers that stuck around all week, we had a different activity for every day of Spring Break that kept Tina busy and out of the house. Our Tuesday Regionals Watch Party had been really fun. Quinn took her shopping for "post-partum clothes" on Wednesday. On Thursday, Mercedes treated her to a day at the spa to get massage and a pedicure. On Friday, Matt suggested that Tina play a little tennis with him and I filmed it for the amusement of watching Tina waddle across the court later. On Saturday, Finn and Rachel doubled dated with us, catching a movie and Jamba Juice afterwards.

I was running out of ideas by Sunday evening and we had school the next day. Tina also had the doctor's appointment after school that she'd been hoping to avoid. And there were still five more days until her cruel doctor would induce labor. Feeling sorry for Tina wasn't productive. I had to keep distracting her.

"I read that bowling helps bring on labor," I reported, rolling into the living room and finding her stretched out on the couch in her trusty sweatpants and a snug white tank. We were home alone tonight and my parents wouldn't be returning until much later that evening. "It'll make you bend in all the right ways."

Tina groaned. "Artie, stay off the internet," she advised me. "Anyway, if tennis didn't do it, nothing will. Besides, I don't have the energy to bowl. I'd rather bowl when I don't look like I'm smuggling a bowling ball out of the alley."

"If I can bowl in my wheelchair, you can bowl," I insisted, refusing to back down until she saw it my way. A smile crept across her face and I knew she was trying to imagine what that would look like. It was probably a comfort to her that I would look just as ridiculous bowling as she would. Mr. Fleming's coaching enabled me to throw something other than gutter balls, but I knew it still looked strange.

"Just you and me?" she asked, looking hopeful.

I shook my head. "Nah, let's call everyone and see who wants to have one last outing before we go back to school. Besides, it'll be funnier if your water breaks with everyone there." I rolled back as she moved to smack me. She missed me completely, but didn't attempt to get up. With a pained expression, she fell back against the couch cushions.

"What?" I asked, alarmed.

But the answer became apparent. Through the thin white tank she wore, I could see the outline of something poking out from just beneath the surface. "Alien baby," I muttered, mesmerized and slightly sick. "Damn, I bet that hurts."

"Not as much as the contractions did yesterday," Tina muttered, rubbing the offending spot. She'd only had a few sporadic ones, nothing that would earn her a stay at the hospital yet. "Am I allowed to resent a dead guy?"

"A dead guy who got you pregnant?" I replied, with a tiny hint of resentment in my tone. I moved towards the couch and prepared to transfer out of my chair. "Um, I would say yes, you are most definitely allowed to resent him. And it's not just because I'm in love with the girl having his baby."

She sighed and watched me shift my body to the couch. Once I was seated comfortably beside her, she leaned against me. "I wish my first time had been with you," she commented. I wasn't sure if this was Tina telling me that she'd only had sex with Mike once, but regardless, I didn't like thinking about the act that had gotten her here.

"Well, maybe after the baby's born…" I began, not really sure what I was saying. "And after you're allowed to be sexually active again, I mean. Maybe, with protection this time, we could…"

She interrupted me. "Artie," she said, seriously. "Mike and I used protection. The condom, it just… well leaked or something. Oh, I'm sorry," she said, seeing my face as I closed my eyes briefly, wishing I'd never heard that. Details I could do without.

"Well, then maybe we should wait," I reasoned, flatly.

"Maybe." Tina bit her lip and fell silent for a few minutes. To fill the quiet, I turned on the television, figuring that we weren't going out for bowling or calling friends. It _was _kind of late, anyway, and now it was a school night. We found _At First Sight_ on one of our movie channels, which I'd previously assumed fell in the category of movies I ought to avoid because it was too much like _Coming Home._

Tina wanted to watch it, however, and since watching a movie about a blind guy and a non-disabled woman was _her_ idea, I figured it was safe. I'd seen it before, and it was pretty romantic and also tragic at the same time. I could really identify with the blind guy in the story. She molded her body into my side, intertwining our fingers.

"Artie…" she breathed during an especially romantic scene.

"Yeah?"

No answer. At least, not a verbal one. In one swift movement, Tina swung her leg over my body, straddling me. Before I could ask what was going on, she leaned over to kiss me. This kiss was entirely different than the one we had shared at Mercedes' party. This kiss was heated and steamy and definitely not G rated. I'd never imagined that Tina could be so aggressive. We went on kissing until I realized that I'd lost track of her hands.

Oh. I'd found them.

They'd undone my belt buckle and my fly, a fact which had totally escaped my notice since I couldn't feel below the waist. I realized Tina wasn't about to stop and, if I let her, in two seconds she'd have her hands all over me. I managed to come to grips with the situation long enough to restrain her gently by the wrists.

She pulled back, still straddling my hips in that domineering manner that would have been sexy if she wasn't so crazed. "I knew it," she said, her tone becoming reproachful. "You think I'm huge and gross."

I watched her climb off of me and said, with utmost sincerity, "Tina, I don't think that. I just think that… your hormones may be driving your actions. And although sex _could _induce labor, I don't think it's appropriate now… for us… on my couch…"

"I wasn't just trying to induce labor," she said, hovering over me and pouting slightly now. She sighed, though, realizing I wasn't being unreasonable. "It's strange how much I want sex right now, considering I didn't even want it when I had it. But you're right, it isn't appropriate. It probably isn't even possible."

"Gee, thanks."

"Not because of _you_, because of the giant belly in the way," she said, scathingly, moving to sit beside me. I hung my head anyway, realizing that I'd stopped her for another reason, unrelated to the giant belly.

"Tina, I don't know how, or even if, my body will respond to you touching me," I confessed, ashamed. "I'm still afraid that if and when we decide to have sex, nothing's gonna happen on its own and you'll be…"

"Disappointed?" she finished. I nodded miserably and she cupped my chin in her hands. "Artie, you could never disappoint me and neither could your body. I said I loved you and I mean it. I never told Mike Chang that I loved him."

"Did you love him?"

It was a bit naïve of me to think that this question had a simple answer. Tina looked upset because I knew it still hurt her to go through this ordeal without the baby's real father around, no matter how supportive I was.

"Yes and no," she finally said. "No, because we didn't even date very long or very seriously. The sex was really rushed and afterwards, before I even knew I was pregnant, I thought it had been a bad idea. But now that I'm having his baby and he's gone, it's like a part of me has to love him. Am I making sense at all?"

"It makes sense," I assured her, giving her an encouraging smile. Yes, it was hard to hear these words, but I took comfort in knowing that she loved _me_ now. And she loved me in a way that she had never loved him. She loved me enough to tell me.

She smiled back and kissed me tenderly, the way I was used to being kissed. Rising slowly, she stretched and yawned. "I'm going to go soak in the bathtub for awhile and go to bed early, okay? Pray that my water breaks tonight so I don't have to go to school."

Tina's parents were back at home now, but she was still staying over at my place. There had been a big fight that I wasn't going to ask about, but I'd overheard Tina talking to my mother about it. The root of Tina's issues at home finally became clear. Not only were they angry with Tina for getting pregnant, they were also angry with her for not keeping the baby.

I watched her go before diving for the pregnancy book on the coffee table. I opened it to one of the later chapters and began reading, figuring that if I wanted to be ready for D-day, it was now or never.

* * *

The next day at school, Tina walked beside me to class since I wouldn't let her push my chair anymore. I carried her bag in my lap as I always did. The comments and stares continued, worse than ever before. People were stunned to see her back at school and still pregnant. I watched her carry herself with as much dignity as she could muster before slinking into the back of the classroom and finally cowering in her seat.

"Why, oh why, am I here?" she asked aloud, but we both knew the answer to that question. Simply put, Tina couldn't afford to miss school until after the baby came. And when it did, she'd have to get back as soon as possible. Her status as a senior next year was at stake.

"It figures the baby's really late," I commented, offhandedly. "Mike was always late to Glee rehearsals…"

If I didn't see Tina between classes, I sent her a text message to make sure she was okay. She regrettably informed me each time that she felt no different, other than being angry about coming to school. I caught up with her at lunch, however, and was greeted with an update.

"I had a contraction, and then ten minutes later, another one," she reported, happily. "Maybe I won't have to wait until Friday, Artie. If they don't stop coming, maybe I can go to the hospital now and finally get this kid out of me."

"Thanks for the imagery, Tee," I teased, remaining cool and collected, although I certainly didn't feel that way. Here was Tina, calmly telling me that she was beginning labor. It wasn't anything like Quinn's labor, which had been fast paced and exciting. It figured, considering Quinn's personality was nothing like Tina's, that they would be different.

"Don't say anything, okay?" she asked, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "I'm trying to finish the day. I don't want to get ahead of myself and skip out on school only to be sent home from the hospital and back at school tomorrow."

"Hey, guys, what's going on?" Rachel interrupted, walking up to us and looking at Tina as she spoke, as if she'd come expressly for the purpose of getting the latest news. I looked at Tina. She looked at me.

"Oh, nothing," said Tina, brightly.

Rachel looked disappointed.

I watched Tina all through lunch, sitting across from her at my usual place at our table. As soon as she'd mentioned ten minutes, I looked at my watch and waited for the next ten minute interval to pass. Amazingly, I saw the expression on her face change in almost exactly ten minutes. She turned away from the table to breathe and managed to hide what she was doing from the rest of the audience at our table. I, however, held my own breath and timed the contraction itself. After about two minutes, she acknowledged me with a tight nod. I subtly took out a notepad and jotted down the time.

Like clockwork, ten minutes passed and she tried to hide the fact that she was experiencing another contraction. I jotted it down. Ten more minutes passed and yet another contraction followed. I jotted it down, too. She silently willed me not to say anything about it, although I could see that they were already getting more intense. At one point, Finn seemed to notice that something was up.

"Bad cafeteria food, Tina?" I heard him ask her.

Er, maybe not.

When lunch ended, I followed Tina to her next class. "Artie, your class is that way," she protested, but I shook my head, indicating that I wasn't going to leave her alone. I'd never skipped a class in my life, but well, there were extenuating circumstances in this case…

"I'll wait outside the door," I decided, wheeling along behind her as she walked ahead of me. "Under the stairs, where I can stay fairly hidden. That way, I'm here if you need to leave. I'm your ride, remember?"

Tina dropped her pen. I couldn't be of much help since, when I drop things, I pretty much have to leave them if no one is around to help me. She bent down carefully to get it and, as she did so, Dave Karofsky came flying down the hall. I knew before he even got close to me that he was armed with a slushie. Sure enough…

"Wheels!" he yelled. "Think fast!" But as the liquid left the cup, Tina rose from the floor just in time to get a face full of slushie in my place. Karofsky remained frozen on the spot, horrified by way he'd just done. Tina stared back at him in stunned disbelief, and then looked down at the floor. Upon making eye contact with Tina, Karofsky took off running in the opposite direction.

"At least now, no one's gonna notice," she said, fixing me with a wide-eyed expression.

"Notice what?"

"That my water just broke."


	20. Mama Drama

**Adatrix**, it's not so much skill and focus as it is inspiration and the knowledge that I want to get this completed before season 2 begins. I feel like season 2 will possibly bring me new inspiration for new stories. But this has been my favorite one to ever write. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing almost every chapter and to those of you who added me to favorite stories or favorite authors!

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It hadn't been so bad at first. Although I'd rushed Tina to the hospital, thinking this was like the movies where the baby was born in the car, the drama died down once we got there. Tina filled out her paperwork, got changed into a hospital gown, and washed the slushie out of her hair (which had been interesting to explain). After receiving the news that she was dilated to three centimeters and was now allowed to stay due to her water breaking, Tina was instructed to walk. This sounded an awful lot like the instructions she'd been given at her last doctor's appointment. Tina's mellow baby was an awful lot like his biological father, content to remain in the background and go with the flow.

Until about 5:00 pm.

At 5:00 pm, Tina's doctor put her on a hormone called Pitocin that was supposed to help her labor progress faster and protect the baby from infection. Pitocin, as it turned out, was also going to make Tina's contractions stronger and more intense. While on the Pitocin, Tina had to get back in bed and remain connected to a fetal monitor.

Tina stared at the monitor, clutching her blankets in anticipation of the next wave. As the contraction hit her, she curled into a ball on her side and began moaning in agony. I wheeled as closely to her bed as I could, but I couldn't reach her back from where I was sitting to massage it. "Tee," I said, gently. "If you scoot back a little, I can massage your back, can you do that?"

"No!" she shrieked, as if I'd just suggested something horrible. "Don't… touch… me!" Tina could barely get the sentence out, but I shrank back, rolling away from the bed.

"Uh…" I stammered, not recognizing the girl in bed, writhing in pain. I continued backing away until I reached the door. Tina looked at me in alarm. "I'll… be… I'll be right back."

"Artie, don't go!" I could hear her cry, but I was already out the door, almost hitting the nurse on my way out. I wheeled quickly down the hall, heading for the waiting room as fast as I could. I comforted myself with the fact that Mom would be getting off work soon, which meant that she should be arriving at the hospital at any minute.

I was surprised to find the members of New Directions, Mr. Schuester, and Ms. Pillsbury waiting in the room. Several of them jumped out of their seats when they saw me coming.

"Is the baby here already?" asked Finn, excitedly.

I shook my head. "Not even close."

Mr. Schuester could see that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He said nothing, but took me by the handles and began pushing my chair. I didn't protest to being steered and simply leaned back, putting my hands over my face and sighing as we headed down the hall, thankfully going away from Tina's room.

"Talk to me, Artie," he said. "What's going on?"

I sighed and spoke in one long, unbroken sentence. "She's falling apart in there, my mom's not here, _her_ mom's not here, I can't do anything for her, it isn't even supposed to be me in there with her, but I told her I would be there, but it isn't my baby, I didn't even do anything and now she doesn't want me to touch her, I can't even reach her bed from my chair to rub her back…"

"I'll send Ms. Pillsbury in for awhile while you go to the waiting area and pull yourself together," he said, softly, giving one of my shoulders a squeeze. I drew in a deep, jagged breath, trying to regain control. Ms. Pillsbury had been talking to Tina for a long time, and as long as the messy process of labor didn't get to her, she'd be able to help.

Mr. Schuester pushed me back to the waiting area and explained the plan to Ms. Pillsbury, who gave me a kindly look before getting up to tend to Tina. I wheeled myself a safe distance away from the others and buried my face in my hands as everything I'd been holding in came spilling out, the tears streaming down my face. I could feel my teammates' eyes on me, watching me lose it, but I didn't seem to care.

I became aware of Finn, hovering over my shoulder. Since Finn is awfully tall and I'm awfully short in my wheelchair, he kind of looked like the Jolly Green Giant, particularly because of the green polo shirt he was sporting. He took a knee beside me, however, putting a hand on my shoulder as Mr. Schue had done. Mr. Schuester often said that Finn reminded him of himself as a teen, and the similarities were easy to see.

"Look, dude," he said. "I've been meaning to talk to you because I feel like I sort of know what you're going through. You know, because of Quinn and being in love with Quinn back when she was pregnant with Puck's baby? I mean, Puck wasn't dead, although I _did _consider killing him when I found out."

I managed a small smile. "Yeah, but there's no Rachel for me," I said, and I hoped Finn Hudson knew that I was using Rachel's name metaphorically and that I did not, in fact, want Rachel. He nodded, understanding, and I realized I needed to give the guy a little more credit. "… It's always been Tina. Even when I tried to tell myself that there could be someone else – you know, Michelle – it was useless. It's always been Tina, it always will be Tina."

"That's… kind of beautiful, man," said Finn, causing me to squirm awkwardly in my chair. "You should tell her that. You know, after she gives birth to Mike's kid and everything. Speaking of which, his parents just got here…"

"They're adopting the baby," I told him, following the direction he'd been looking to see Mr. and Mrs. Chang arriving with little Mia in tow. Mia had a rather frightened look on her face, and it occurred to me that this might only be the second time in her life that she'd been in a hospital waiting room. The first time had resulted in the loss of her big brother so it was no wonder that she looked scared.

"That's great," Finn was saying. "The first time I ever saw Mike's mom, I thought she was his older sister. I'm sure that's going to help his family a lot, you know. Tina's doing a really good thing, giving the baby away to them. Quinn says it's hard sometimes, but she doesn't regret giving away Beth either."

It surprised me to hear Finn saying that he still talked to Quinn, knowing that he was now in a relationship with Rachel. Finn and Puck were friends again, too. Apparently, they all knew how to learn from mistakes, bury the hatchet, and get on with life. That was what I'd been trying to do with Tina, albeit with difficulty, but the aftermath of Babygate 2009 gave me hope.

After I finished talking to Finn, I considered what to do next. Wendy Chang smiled at me from across the room where she and her family were sitting apart from our group. I watched Matt rise from his seat and move to sit beside his best friend's family.

Mercedes and Quinn approached me next, and I braced myself for another attack. It was pretty much a given that neither girl could slushie me in the waiting room. And the hospital probably didn't take too kindly to people being dumped out of their wheelchairs either. A verbal attack would have to be their tactic of choice.

And suddenly, Quinn was hugging me. "I'm sorry, Artie," she said, squeezing me within an inch of my life. "I didn't know how hard it was for you until I saw you crying. Are you going to be okay?"

As she released me, I stared up at her, aghast. "Is this a trick?"

"A trick?"

"Oh, reverse psychology, I get it."

"You sure catch on quick, Abrams," said Quinn, narrowing her eyes and giving me one of her notorious dirty looks. "Dry up and get back in there. Be a man."

I looked at Mercedes, who shrugged and held up her hands as though to say: 'Leave me out of this.' It was too much for me to expect support from either of these two, but deep down, I knew Quinn was right. I was beginning to feel terrible for running out on Tina. (Rolling out, whatever.) She hadn't asked for Ms. Pillsbury, she needed _me._

Before I could decide on what to do, Matt approached us. "Hey guys," he said, looking serious and a little sad. "Mike's mom just reminded me. Tomorrow would've been his eighteenth birthday…"

The mood became abruptly somber. I looked up to see that the rest of the club had overheard what Matt said and stopped talking, allowing a moment of silence for the memory of our friend. I exchanged a meaningful look with Mrs. Chang, who gave me a tiny smile as she dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex.

"So if the baby's born after midnight…" Mercedes trailed off.

If the baby and Mike shared a birthday, I wondered how the family would feel about the day from here on out. It would probably be better if Tina had the baby before midnight so that the kid would have his own day, but I didn't know if that was going to happen. It wasn't like I could go in there and tell her to hurry up either. I didn't want to think about the backlash that would follow such a suggestion.

"I do need to get back in there," I said, ignoring Quinn's eye roll and exaggerated mouthing of the word 'duh.' Grabbing my wheels with determination, I headed back down the hallway of doom and could hear Tina's cries before I even opened the door.

She was right in the middle of an intense contraction as Ms. Pillsbury rubbed her back and spoke softly to her, so softly that I wasn't able to hear what she was saying. Our counselor smiled at me and said to Tina, "Artie's back, just like I said he would be. Do you want him to take over?"

Tina said nothing, her eyes remaining tightly shut, but she nodded. I gathered my courage and wheeled over to her bed. I had to ask her again to move back slightly, but she so this time without protest. Her gown gaped open, but I knew that me seeing the back of her underwear wasn't really a big deal, given the circumstances. I rubbed her bare skin, feeling the tightness in her back and realizing that I could literally feel the grip that the contraction had on poor Tina. After what felt like ages, the tension eased up slightly and Tina was able to look and sound like a human being again.

"Why did you leave?" she murmured her eyes red and swollen from crying as she turned over her shoulder to look at me.

"I'm sorry, Tee," I said, quickly. "I got a little scared. Please forgive me." She nodded and took my hand. I gave hers a gentle squeeze, letting her know that I was here now and it was going to be okay.

"Please stay if you can," she begged. I nodded again and kissed her hand, since it was the only part of her I could reach.

"Hey, guess what?" I began, forcing a smile onto my face.

"What?"

"If you deliver after midnight, the baby's going to have the same birthday as Mike." Her eyes went wide at the news. "Isn't that great?"

"I guess so," she replied, looking as though she didn't exactly know how to feel about the idea either. She heaved a sigh. "But you know what _would _be great? An epidural would be great. Supposedly, the anesthesiologist is on his way right now."

"Cool," I told her, grinning. "You can join the club!"

She screwed up her face in confusion. "The what?"

I chuckled. "The numb-below-the-waist club!" I figured this would get a laugh out of her, and it did, although she clutched her belly and winced as though it were a little painful to laugh, even between contractions.

"Oh, Artie," she sighed, giving me a real smile and looking even more human than before. "This is why I'm glad you're here. You always know how to make me feel better." She squeezed my hand.

"Tina?" Ms. Pillsbury spoke up, and I'd nearly forgotten she was in the room with us. She'd moved back towards the door, out of our way as we had our private moment. "Will… er, Mr. Schuester just texted me to say that your parents are here. Your mom wants to come in and see how you're doing…"

Tina looked as though she might object at first, but seemed to reconsider as her expression softened. She nodded. "Sure, let her come in."

A second after Ms. Pillsbury left the room, another contraction started. This time, I began rubbing her back instantly. She seemed more relaxed, although she did scream for her epidural in the middle of it. As the contraction reached its peak, the door swung open to reveal Tina's mother. I swallowed hard, but didn't stop massaging her daughter's back as I looked the woman straight in the eye.

Tina's mother was crying as she came in. She sat down on the other side of Tina's bed, ignoring me completely. I watched her take both of Tina's hands in hers and begin speaking softly and soothingly to her daughter. It became clear to me that while Tina needed me, she needed her own mother, too. Even Quinn's mother had come to her daughter's rescue in her time of need, and Tina's mother was going to be no different.

As the contraction ended, the door swung open yet again. This time, it was the anesthesiologist. I've never been so happy to see a doctor.


	21. Full Time Friend

A/N: You guys have been so great! While this might feel like the last chapter, it isn't. I'm thinking I'll go to 22-24 chapters, depending on where the next one takes me. The baby's arrival doesn't always need to mean that the story ends, right? Particularly not this one. Also, I've known the baby's name since this story was conceived! (HA, pun...) So now I get to tell all of you and that makes me gigundoly glad.

* * *

The epidural had been fun while it lasted. Not the actual procedure, of course, but the effects of the medication on Tina. She was positively overjoyed over not having to suffer through the next several hours of contractions and was actually pleasant to be around for awhile. The procedure itself, however, was a little too much for me to handle. When the doctor had appeared, I'd wheeled myself over to the window and tried to block out what was happening. All I could think about was the huge _needle _going into her _back _in between her vertebrae. Anyone who knew my history with my own spinal cord could understand why that kind of thing sent me over the edge. It was way beyond rare to become permanently paralyzed because of an epidural, but it wasn't impossible. I couldn't stop thinking about that internet research I now regretted. When I returned to her bedside looking sickly pale, Tina was the one to send me out of the room herself this time.

I'd rolled out into the hallway, white as a ghost, and it was Brittany who asked if the baby was here. Shaking my head, I went straight to a water cooler, filled up a cup, and poured it over my head before going back into the room.

The epidural was now but a distant memory as the medication wore off so that Tina could start pushing. I guess it was foolish of me to think that, because she was at the pushing stage, this was almost over. It didn't seem like it took Quinn very long to deliver her baby, but I learned that I had to stop comparing Tina to Quinn. Hours later, we were well into Mike's birthday and the baby still wasn't out. Tina was drenched in sweat, her hand clutching mine for dear life as another contraction started, meaning it was time for more pushing. The doctor did that thing where he counted down again and Tina bore down again, causing me to wince as she squeezed my hand.

"Now we're getting somewhere," the doctor said, giving her an encouraging smile and patting her leg. "If you can give it everything you've got on the next contraction, Christina, we might have a head."

He'd been calling her Christina the entire time, and Christina isn't even her full name. It's just Tina. The guy wasn't her regular doctor. He was just the doctor on call that night, and I could tell that Tina wasn't happy about having a stranger deliver her baby. But at this point, it didn't really matter if he wasn't her regular doctor or if he called her Christina. All that mattered was that the baby was coming, no matter who caught him.

I'd stayed behind Tina's head as promised, avoiding the area where all the action was taking place. I knew, however, that modesty was pretty much out the question now when the doctor momentarily moved the sheet that was blocking my view and I saw way more than I'd intended to see. Tina didn't even seem to notice or care.

The next contraction meant that it was time for Tina to give it her all. She twisted her face in agony and gripped my hand even tighter, which I hadn't thought possible until now. I heard something that sounded like the bones in my hand breaking. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to forget my own pain. No matter how hard she squeezed my hand, I wouldn't jerk it away.

"Go, go, go, here… he… comes," urged the doctor as Tina, who had sworn up and down to me before that she wouldn't scream, screamed bloody murder. I tried to offer words of encouragement to her, but they came out so jumbled that I was pretty sure no one could understand what I'd said. I didn't even understand what I'd said.

I dared to look away from Tina's face to see what was happening, and just as I did so, a slimy purple thing appeared on the other side of the sheet. The doctor suctioned out its nose and mouth quickly and then held up the newborn, cord still attached, for Tina to see it. Tina finally let go of her death grip on my hand and propped up on her elbows to see her baby. A faint smile appeared on her lips before she fell back against her pillows in exhaustion.

"You did it, Tee," I told her, wishing I could reach high enough to kiss her cheek. She gave my hand a squeeze of acknowledgement, but that gesture made me wince in pain.

"Want to cut the cord, Dad?" I looked up just in time to realize that the nurse was addressing me. I didn't want to correct her in front of Tina. It was complicated enough. But I most certainly didn't want to _cut_ anything. I shook my head, hoping that she wouldn't insist. Luckily, she smiled as if she understood my apprehension, the plight of a teenaged dad. Whatever, she could think what she wanted.

I continued to beam at Tina, blocking out the rest of the room as the nurse did the cord cutting (disgusting) and cleaned off the purple slimy thing in order to make it look more like a baby (thankfully). When he finally returned to us, swaddled tightly in a receiving blanket, I was much happier to see him. He was smaller than I'd expected, given that I'd worried Tina's late delivery might mean she was carrying around a ten-pounder. The nurse announced his weight and length as eight pounds, three ounces, and nineteen inches long. I could read mixed emotions on Tina's face as they handed over the baby who wouldn't be _her_ son, but mostly, she looked happy.

"Mike's probably leading a conga line in the sky right now," I said, because I knew Tina wouldn't do it, but Mike deserved a mention. It was his birthday _and _his son's birthday, and despite all the difficulty these past nine months had brought us, I was glad that Mike Chang was able to father a son before he died. Even if I was in love with his child's mother, I could still be happy for him.

As Tina continued to bond with her baby, the nurse suggested I go deliver the news as "the proud papa." I suspected that she, remembering my panic over the epidural, was trying to get me out of the room before anything else decidedly medical took place. I agreed, but there was one minor problem. The hand that Tina had crushed with her death grip was still throbbing. I had to ask the nurse for a push and tried to keep my voice low as I explained that my hand was injured. I didn't to cause Tina any undue distress as she had quite enough on her plate at the moment.

"Hey, baby mama," I called out, as the nurse started steering my chair towards the door. "They're all going to want to know his name. Did you end up going with Tyler or Grant?"

"Neither," she said, without taking her eyes off of her baby as she touched his cheek with her fingertip. "Tell them it's Cohen. Cohen Michael Chang." She looked up, grinning. "I wasn't going to stick him with the dreaded hyphen, but I wasn't going to drop the 'Cohen' either. It's the best of both worlds."

"Cohen as a first name?" It seemed like Tina was determined to pick a name traditionally used as a last name for his first name, but I liked it much better than Tyler or Grant. I just grinned back at her as the nurse navigated my chair out the door.

Only the brave few had stuck around until 3:04 am, the time that baby Cohen had finally made his arrival. Those brave ones were Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury, despite having school the next day, Quinn and Mercedes, Tina's parents, Mike's parents, and my angel of a mother. They staggered groggily to their feet, waking up as I entered the waiting area, courtesy of the nurse.

"He's here, big and healthy," I said, feeling strangely like I really was the proud papa as I gave the big news. "And Tina's doing great. She told me to tell you his name is Cohen. Cohen Michael Chang."

The name received rave reviews.

* * *

My perfect attendance record at school was blown for the year, but with good reason. Tina was staying one day at the hospital with Cohen, who had passed all his newborn screenings with flying colors. And Cohen had circumcision to look forward to, for which I teased Tina by saying I expected nothing less for Cohen, what with his nice Jewish name. I opted to skip school in favor of hanging out with Tina in the hospital. She'd specifically asked me to keep her company.

"I haven't _really_ been alone for the past nine months," she had told me over the phone, a hint of sadness in her voice.

I only slept for four hours at home before returning to the hospital. Mom drove me back after my brief nap. I was running on coffee and adrenaline as I made my way back to Tina's room. A nurse pushed my chair to the room since I'd been rendered temporarily incapable of pushing myself. An X-ray of my hand at 4:00 am revealed that Tina had indeed broken bones. Supposedly, I was going to get an aide to push my chair around at school, and I'd somehow find a way manage at home. I wasn't going to be able to drive until my hand healed either. But it wasn't the end of the world. If a tetraplegic could manage, so could I.

"I'm really, really, really sorry about your hand," Tina lamented, for the thousandth time since I'd given her the news. She was propped up in her bed, her hair much neater and cleaner than the last time I'd seen her. The swelling in her face had diminished. She still looked pregnant, but definitely _less_ pregnant than before Cohen's arrival. Her guilt-stricken eyes drifted to my splinted hand as the nurse parked me beside the bed.

"It's okay, Tina," I said, reassuringly. "Now I get to have people waiting on me all the time… _hand _and foot."

My bad pun evoked a groan. "I guess I didn't know my own strength."

"I guess not," I agreed. "But it's fine, you're a great pusher, in more ways than one." She groaned again. I wasn't sure if it was the pun or the reminder of her lingering soreness.

"I never want to do that again."

"I hope you don't mean that," I said, before really rehearsing my words, which is an unfortunate habit of mine. "You should have more kids someday." _With me._

Tina got a strange, faraway look in her eyes as she spoke again. "They want me to try breastfeeding him this morning. When he's living with the Changs, with… his parents, I'm going to pump milk and send it to them. I don't know about actually feeding him myself though. I guess I'm afraid that he'll…"

"Feel like yours?"

Tears filled her eyes and I guess words just failed her as she nodded miserably. I pushed myself one-handedly to the edge of her bed and the closest thing I could give her to a hug was resting my head on her knees. She stroked my hair and I could hear her sniffling as my heart continued to break for her. We both knew that giving Cohen to Mike's young, capable parents was the right thing to do, but even I couldn't help feeling a little parental after seeing his tiny face. I'd been through the whole ordeal with Tina. I'd helped her try to choose a name and crochet blankets for him. I'd read up on pregnancy in an attempt to help. I'd massaged her feet. I'd felt him kick numerous times.

But it was like Juno said. He was always theirs.

I knew Tina had seen that famous teen pregnancy movie, _Juno_, because I'd watched it with her when there was nothing else on TV one night. We both liked the song at the end. So, borrowing the ending, I serenaded her: _"__You're a part-time lover and a full-time friend. The monkey on your back is the latest trend. I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else… but you."_

She smiled, singing, _"I'll kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train. I'll kiss you all starry-eyed, my body swinging from side to side I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else… but you."_


	22. Epilogue: Lucky

A/N: Very, very late in coming, considering my last update was in August. Thanks to everyone who reviewed this! I hope to have a new project, probably a shorter one than this, started soon.

* * *

Mike Chang never left us, not really.

He was standing in my living room.

I'm not a believer when it comes to the idea of reincarnation, but Cohen could almost make me question that viewpoint. Having grown into the spitting image of his father, seeing sixteen-year-old Cohen was like seeing my former rival all over again, except that I usually did not have the urge to roll over his toes.

I _did, _however, question Tina's sanity after she'd suggested that we ask Cohen to be our sitter for the night. Although Cohen had watched the kids under our supervision, this would be the first time he'd be alone with the boys at the house. I worried that they'd be playing violent video games all night or trying dangerous tricks. Yeah, aren't those kind of concerns supposed to be left to the mothers? I'll be the first to admit that I'm an overprotective dad.

"Archie, Aaron, your sitter's here!" I called to the boys, grinning back at Cohen and masking my reservations. He grinned, knowing that his presence in our house was going to be a surprise to the kids tonight. The twins would, undoubtedly, be expecting to see the teenaged girl that lived down the street, the one that we would no longer be calling after she reportedly spent the whole evening on the phone with her boyfriend instead of attending to our sons.

"Aw, man, why can't we watch our-"Aaron remarked, coming into the room with his brother (identical only in terms of appearance) trailing along behind him. Aaron is more like me, loud and overly-opinionated, whereas Archie takes after Tina. He tends to bottle up frustration over time, and when it all finally boils over, explodes in a terrifying reign of fury. I must admit that these moments are hilarious.

"COHEN!" They both exclaimed in unison, eagerly running towards their favorite cousin and throwing their arms around him. They call Cohen their cousin, even though he's technically their… half-sibling.

We dished out the usual babysitter instructions in slightly more detail, since this would be Cohen's first time on his own with the boys. He surprises me by reaching into his backpack and pulling out some kids' board games that he'd picked up at the drugstore. Tina smirked and asked him if he'd ever read "The Baby-sitters Club" series. Cohen gave his birthmother a confused look.

"The Baby-sitters Club," she repeated. "It's this book series I used to read all the time. Seven girls start a baby-sitters club. There's even a boy sitter in the club later on. Anyway, the girls create these things called kid-kits that are full of toys for the kids. You just brought your own kid-kit."

"No, I just brought over a backpack with some games," he hastily corrected her. "I'm was more of a Hardy Boys' fan myself, thanks to you, Uncle Artie."

Man after my own heart.

We said our good-byes to Archie and Aaron, who were both very eager to see us leave so that they could have Cohen's exclusive attention. As we made our way to the front door, Tina stopped to tell Cohen one more thing. "Happy birthday," she said, catching me off-guard. I then realized why she was telling him now. "In case I forget to call at midnight…"

"Thanks, Aunt Tina," said Cohen, who knew by now that Tina is his mother by birth, not really his aunt. Cohen was a little older than the twins when he learned the full story of how he came to be a part of his family. Tina had once worried about Cohen's reaction to the explanation, but to her great relief, it never seemed to bother him. The only regret he ever expressed was sadness over never meeting his biological father.

"I'd almost forgotten," I told Tina, when we were alone again. She'd gotten behind my chair to push, an old habit of hers that I never minded. I turned to smile back at her. "Hard to believe it's been sixteen years since _you _were his sixteen-year-old mother."

"Hard to believe he's in there, babysitting our five-year-olds."

"Or that we _have _five-year-olds," I replied, thinking about how I'd once been so concerned that fatherhood would be an impossible dream. "Five-year-old twins."

She leaned over to plant a kiss on my lips. "We're pretty lucky."

_Lucky I'm in love with my best friend,_

_Lucky to have been where I have been,_

_Lucky to be coming home again…_


End file.
